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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.! 






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| UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | 




Escape of Henry d'Albret, King of Navarre. 



THE 



I) 



ROTESTANT ill OF NAYM. 



THE 



MOTHER OF THE BOURBONS, 



BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND, 



FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS. 









NEW YORK: 
NELSON & PHILLIPS. 

CINCINNATI: 

HITCHCOCK & WALDEN. 

1878. 



f 



IitUi 



JJTHE LIBRARY |! 
OF CONGRESS 

f WASHINGTON 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 

NELSON & PHILLIPS, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



PREFACE. 



IT is often said that French history would not 
be the sad tragedy it is had the women who 
wore the crown been wiser and nobler ; and the 
women who ruled the court, and whose influence 
is every-where to be traced in the national policy, 
been loftier and purer in heart and character. 

To this stricture, true in the main, Jeanne d'Al- 
bret forms a shining exception. The life of this 
brave, noble Frenchwoman belongs not merely to 
her own country, but to the world. 

Contemporary with Queen Elizabeth, it is a curi- 
ous fact that the two greatest women of Europe, at 
the most eventful crisis of its history, occupied 
Protestant thrones. 

The French queen had the nobler soul, and, 
could the two have changed places, would have 
acted in many a trying emergency a higher part 
than the great Englishwoman. 

One closed in glory and honor the reign of the 
Tudors ; the other founded a new dynasty, and 



6 Preface. 

gave to France the first and greatest of her Bour- 
bon kings. 

The life of Jeanne d'Albret from her birth to 
her death has all the interest and fascination of a 
romance ; and the history of the fifteenth century 
would be incomplete without that slight, heroic 
figure in the foreground, stronger in its simplicity 
and integrity than the crowned sovereigns, the 
mailed warriors, the mighty statesmen who sur- 
round it. 

Neither her lofty gifts, her noble character, her 
beauty and grace, renowned at every court in 
Europe, could save her from the crudest wrongs 
and griefs which ever fell to the lot of woman. 

V. F. T. 



Jfihtsiraiiang, 



PAGE 

Escape of Henry d'Albret, King of Navarre... 2 

"This is Mine," he said, taking the Infant in 

his Arms 95 

The Cardinal of Lorraine Greeting the King of 

Navarre 162 

Jeanne d'Albret by the Bedside of Coligny..,. 277 



THE 



PROTESTANT QUEEN OF NAYARRE. 



CHAPTER I. 

THERE was great joy in the palace of Fon- 
tainebleau on that long ago winter morning, 
January 8th, 1528, for Marguerite d'Angouleme, 
the beautiful and idolized sister of Francis, had 
borne a daughter to her husband Henry II., king 
of Navarre. 

The child, whose birth was hailed with such 
pride and delight, had entered on the world's 
stage at a critical period. Her part there, as we 
shall see, was to be one of the grandest and noblest 
ever appointed a woman ; one of the hardest and 
saddest too. 

It is worth while to pause here a moment and 
think what was going on in the world on that far 
away winter morning, when the cry of the new- 
born girl was first heard in the stately palace of 
her uncle, the king. 

Ten years before, a monk, with a tall, com- 
manding figure, and a keen, powerful face, had 
gone up through the soft Prussian landscape in 
the pleasant October weather, and quietly nailed 



io The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

some propositions to the door of the old parish 
church in Wittemburg. 

Each stroke of that monk's hammer in the still, 
soft air of the October morning had rung through 
the land, through the whole world ! The strokes 
were ringing still, louder and louder, shaking 
crowns and miters ; shaking the souls of men too ; 
shaking the habits, beliefs, superstitions of ages, 
until the world seemed rocking to its foundations. 
Only Martin Luther's hammer on the old parish 
church door, you remember ! 

At the time of the birth of the princess, all 
Europe was in a state of unrest and agitation. 
Charles V., whose age just measured the century's, 
was now emperor of Germany, king of Spain, 
sovereign of Naples, of the Low Countries, the 
Indies, making him at this era the most powerful 
figure on the world's stage. Three such vast em- 
pires, such power and grandeur, must, it seemed, 
satisfy any human ambition ; but the greed of 
Charles V. was insatiable. 

Outside of his military talents, one finds very 
little to admire in the great monarch of the first 
half of the sixteenth century. He was at heart 
"an Austrian tyrant, a Spanish bigot." His cold, 
scheming, selfish nature seems to have been un- 
equal to a thrill of generous enthusiasm, and 
throughout his whole career his treatment of his 
enemies — that sure test of a noble nature — proved 
the essential hardness and coldness of the soul of 
Charles V. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 1 

He regarded the dictates of humanity only 
when his own interests required him to do this, 
and the conquered he was sure to set his iron 
heel upon. His most ungenerous treatment 
of his brother-sovereign, Francis I., when the 
chances of war made the French king a prisoner 
in Madrid, his later conduct toward Philip of 
Hesse, the Elector of Saxony, and toward the 
insurgents of Ghent, prove the real character of 
the man whom his courtiers flattered by calling 
him "the modern Cesar." The emperor's arro- 
gance and usurpations had at last armed all the 
powers of civilized Europe against him. Italy 
was at this time the principal theater of the 
contest. Its fair plains and beautiful cities were 
devastated, and given up to sack and slaughter. 
The flags of France and England, forgetting their 
ancient enmity, waved side by side on the battle 
field. Even the pope, Clement VII., whose or- 
thodoxy was never allowed to stand in the way of 
his interests, sent his forces and consecrated ban- 
ners to join the foes of the emperor. 

It is curious to remember, too, what they were 
doing just across the channel, in this very year 
when the Princess Marguerite first saw the light. 
They had been having serious times at Oxford. 
The tracts and Testaments that Tyndal had pub- 
lished at Antwerp had found their way secretly 
into the great college of Christ Church, which 
Wolsey, the magnificent minister of Henry VIII., 
had founded. The students had read these, and 



1 2 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

held private prayer-meetings, and become inocu- 
lated with the German heresy. 

The authorities had gone mercilessly to work 
to weed out the new religion root and branch. 
There had been fearful scenes in the old college. 
Some of the students had been arrested, impris- 
oned, and tortured ; others had made their escape 
by flight. It makes one's heart ache now to read 
of those cold, gray English dawns, and of the poor, 
hunted, shivering youths creeping in disguise off 
to London, or making their way across the coun- 
try to the Channel, while the secret police of 
Wolsey were on their track, scouring the land far 
and wide, ready to pounce, like wolves, on their 
prey. 

In that year, too, there were dark whispers at 
the English court. All the world knew by this 
time that Henry VIII. did not love the pale, proud 
Spanish woman who still reigned as his queen, 
and who never forgot in her bitterest griefs, that 
she was the daughter of a long line of Spanish 
kings, the child of Ferdinand and Isabella, and 
that her ancestors sat on thrones when the Tudors 
were a wild race of chieftains among the mount- 
ains and forests of Wales. 

In this very year, 1528, it was common talk at 
court that the king was in the frequent habit of 
stealing away from his palaces of Eltham and 
Greenwich, and riding straight for Hever Castle. 
Here Sir Thomas Boleyn, the father of Queen 
Catharine's most beautiful maid of honor, resided. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 3 

When the bugle blew on the hill-top near the 
castle, and the echoes in the woods caught up the 
clear, sweet sounds, the people knew that the king 
was at hand. Anne Boleyn's heart must have 
throbbed high when she heard the blast of that 
bugle on the hill-top. She knew for whose sake 
the king had. ridden his panting horse all these 
miles. 

One fancies her coming in her loveliness and 
grace through the antique gallery to the oaken 
chamber, where, they tell us, she always granted 
Henry audience. What a fascinating creature 
she must have been ! To all her native gifts were 
added that indescribable charm and polish gained 
in her long residence at the French court. She 
had gone there in her childhood, in the train of 
sweet Mary Tudor, when the youngest and favor- 
ite sister of Henry went to her brief bridal with 
the French king. 

Mary was a widow within eighty days after her 
marriage, and the bride of her old lover, Charles 
Brandon, a little later; but for some unexplained 
reason Anne Boleyn did not return to England 
with her mistress, but remained at the French court 
for awhile maid of honor to the king's sister, Mar- 
guerite d'Angouleme. Yet it would have been 
better for poor Anne Boleyn if the bugle had never 
sounded on the hills before Hever Castle — better a 
thousand times for her if she had never come in 
her grace and loveliness through the antique gallery 
to the oaken chamber to grant the king audience. 



14 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Marguerite d'Angouleme, at the time of her 
daughter's birth, was about thirty-five years of 
age. It seems difficult to write of this historic 
Frenchwoman without exhausting the whole vo- 
cabulary of praise, for it seemed as though nature 
had lavished every possible gift and grace on her 
favorite. 

Her beauty was conspicuous amid the beauty of 
her brother's court. She was tall, like the king, 
whom she strongly resembled. She had a face 
full of sweetness and animation, deep violet eyes, 
and soft, golden hair. 

But Marguerite's mental gifts were more re- 
markable than her personal beauty ; her society 
and correspondence were sought by the most 
learned men of Europe. 

She possessed wonderful intellectual energy, 
though her mind was not of the masculine type 
of her distinguished mother, Louise of Savoy. 
Literature and art were the delight of Marguerite's 
life. Her conversation was witty and brilliant : 
her noble intellect and generous heart fascinated 
all who approached her ; her poems and letters 
charm the reader by their grace and imagination. 

But Marguerite's heart and character formed, 
after all, her chief attraction. Her purity, her 
heroic capacity for self-devotion, her noble loy- 
alty to truth and goodness, all combine to make 
an ideal portrait, and Marguerite d'Angouleme, as 
she stands in history, seems almost exempt from 
the imperfections of humanity. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 5 

Yet her position was in many respects peculiarly- 
trying ; it would inevitably bring to light whatever 
faults and foibles there were in her character. 

Her brother, the magnificent Francis I., prob- 
ably loved his only sister better than any thing else 
on earth, and delighted to make her the star of his 
court, and the source and almoner of his bounty, 
to his people. 

Marguerite returned this tenderness with all 
the strength and ardor of her nature. Her affec- 
tion for her brother was the deepest love of her 
life. It had its roots far back in her infancy, for 
Marguerite was only two years his senior, and from 
babyhood had been his inseparable companion. 

Her son was two years old when Louise of 
Savoy was left a widow, and the care of her chil- 
dren devolved wholly on the mother not yet past 
her girlhood. She was at first utterly crushed by 
the loss of a husband more than double her age, 
but to whom she had been devotedly attached. 

At the birth of Francis, Louise of Savoy was 
but eighteen years of age, and in case of the 
failure of the direct heirs, the crown and throne 
of France would descend to her son. 

When the boy was born there seemed very little 
prospect of his ever attaining the sovereignty, but 
this remote possibility aroused the energies and 
ambitions latent in the soul of Louise of Savoy. 
Nobody appears to have suspected the real quali- 
ties of her character until the death of her husband 
brought them to light. 



1 6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre \ 

The young widow arose from the blow which at 
first had overwhelmed her to devote herself to 
her two beautiful children. All her tenderness, 
her hopes, her ambitions, centered here. She 
avowed her intention never to marry again, and 
she kept her word amid powerful inducements to 
break it. The sudden death of the king, Charles 
VIII., without heirs, before Francis had reached 
his fourth year, made the boy first prince of the 
blood, and from that time his accession became 
the one hope and ambition of his mother's life. 
On that shining goal her eyes were steadily fixed 
through all the trials and reverses which beset her, 
and these might readily have crushed a less in- 
domitable nature. 

For as the years went on, Louise of Savoy de- 
veloped a most remarkable character. The gentle, 
devoted young wife became the haughty, ambi- 
tious, unscrupulous woman. She proved herself 
equal to her position, which, in many respects, 
might well have tried the energies and resources 
of a strong man. Louise of Savoy had a vigorous 
masculine intellect. Her sagacity, her keen pene- 
tration, her signal talents for government, her 
iron will and lofty courage, make her one of the 
most remarkable women of history. 

There was, unfortunately, a darker side to the 
portrait. The beautiful, gifted, and fascinating 
woman proved herself, when the test came, fatally 
lacking in moral qualities. She was. passionate, 
selfish, vindictive, pitiless, and remorseless; she 



the Mother of the Bourbons. \*j 

could tread down, like some inexorable fate, what- 
ever stood in the way of her desires and ambitions. 
But her devotion to her children was absolute ; 
their beauty and precocity were the delight and 
surprise of all who beheld them. 

When Louis XII. ascended the throne of France 
he assigned the castle of Amboise to Louise of 
Savoy, as a permanent residence for herself and 
her children. 

Here the young mother could carry out in free- 
dom her own plans in the education of her idol- 
ized children ; she could mold that daughter 
whose childish loveliness and dawning intellect 
gave early promise of the beautiful womanhood 
into which they were to ripen ; she could train 
that gallant boy whose young temples his mother 
saw in her proud visions encircled with the crown 
of France. 

The home at Amboise, with the admirable man- 
agement of its mistress, was probably the most 
delightful in the France of that age. The chil- 
dren's tutors were assigned by the king, while a 
gallant company of the sons of the principal no- 
bles of the realm were sent to Amboise to be the 
companions and pages, and share the education, of 
the prince. 

The old castle stands now in gray, gloomy re- 
pose under the sunny skies of France. Within 
those great stone ribs does there brood a tender 
memory of the gay, brave young life which once 
went on there. 



1 8 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Do the thick walls still hold some echoes of the 
merry laughter of the noisy games, of the clatter- 
ing of hoofs, when the gay young cavaliers rode in 
from the hunt ? Are they haunted still by the pomp 
and grace of that old feudal life — a life whose 
lease was to run yet for nearly three centu- 
ries, until the descendants of Marguerite had suc- 
ceeded the grandchildren of her brother on the 
throne of France, and the House of Bourbon had 
long worn the crown of the Valois ? 

Marguerite was the small queen of that young 
band of cavaliers. She was born to be the star of 
courts all her life. In her childhood at Amboise 
she knew that her smile stimulated the young 
cavaliers to their bravest efforts in game or pas- 
time, and her fair hands always placed the wreath 
on the brow of the victor. 

But the singular devotion of the brother and 
sister was, perhaps, the most marked characteristic 
of their childhood. During all their lives no 
other love — neither husband's, wife's, nor child's — 
was allowed to rival this supreme one. Its roots 
struck deep in their infancy ; it perished only with 
their lives. 

Marguerite had, no doubt, a powerful molding 
influence on her brother. What was best in him 
he owed more or less to that loyal heart and 
elevated character. 

That high tone of chivalry which was hereafter 
to distinguish the first of the line of Valois, the 
generous magnanimity which often dazzled the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 19 

eyes of Europe, had, no doubt, its inspiration 
largely in the society and example of his " Pearl 
of Pearls," as Francis I. fondly called his sister. 

Louis XII., on ascending the throne, divorced 
himself from the wife he had been forced into 
marrying, and wedded Anne of Bretagne, widow 
of the late king. She was a young and beautiful 
woman, with many noble qualities of heart and 
mind. But she too was proud and ambitious, and 
her interests were directly opposed to those of 
Louise of Savoy. A bitter animosity existed be- 
tween the two women, which their circumstances 
and positions only tended to inflame. 

The passionate desire of the new queen's heart 
was to bear a prince to the throne, which would 
have cut off the claims of Louise's son to the 
crown. 

But Anne's son died in his infancy, and despite 
the bitter and long-continued opposition of her 
mother, Claude, the eldest daughter of Louis XII., 
was at last betrothed to the heir of the throne. 

When Marguerite reached her seventeenth year, 
she was married to the Duke d'Alencon ; this was 
arranged by the king, who, though greatly gov- 
erned by his queen, seems always to have had a 
strong regard for the children of Louise of Sa- 
voy. It was a terrible sacrifice of the beautiful, 
high-souled girl. There had been serious talk, at 
one time, of betrothing her to the prince, after- 
ward Henry VIII., of England. When he came 
to man's estate he deeply regretted that his father 



20 The Protestant Qtteen of Navarre, 

had not favored the union. But Catharine of 
Arragon had brought with her a large dowry. When 
little more than a child the Spanish girl came 
to wed Henry's brother, and when he died, the 
avarice which was in the Tudor blood, made her 
hard old father-in-law resolved to retain her por- 
tion by marrying her to her brother-in-law, now 
prince of Wales. 

So Marguerite d'Angouleme lost the crown of 
England, and we all know what grief came of that 
Spanish marriage. 

Charles d'Alencon had nothing but his high 
birth and his handsome person to recommend 
him to the beautiful girl whose hand he had won, 
whose senior he was by many years, and whose 
nature his own — bigoted, morose, and jealous — 
was totally incapable of comprehending. 

Nobody, however, appears to have made the 
slightest opposition to the union. Rank and for- 
tune almost invariably settled the marriages of 
those days, and this one was celebrated with great 
pomp, the king himself leading Marguerite to and 
from the altar. 

The sudden death of Anne of Bretagne threw 
court and kingdom into the deepest gloom, for the 
queen was widely beloved ; but the succession 
seemed now assured to Francis. His mother, in 
her pride and exultation, furgot her usual discreet 
tact, and appeared at court, actually taking upon 
herself much of the state and authority of the dead 
queen, thereby deeply offending the widowed king. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 21 

It is said that to these assumptions on the part 
of Louise was largely owing the sudden betrothal 
of Louis XII. to Mary Tudor, the young sister 
of the king of England. 

This union at once clouded the prospects of 
Francis, and his mother retired from the palace in 
anger and dismay, while the young English girl 
came across the channel with her train of maid- 
ens, among whom was fair Anne Boleyn, to her 
short-lived bridal with the French monarch. 

Eighty days after her marriage she was a widow, 
and Louise of Savoy had reached the dazzling 
goal of her hopes and ambitions, for her son was 
king of France ! 

To tell of the opening years of his reign, of all 
the pomp and splendor which filled it, of palaces 
enriched with all the beauty and glory of art, of a 
court adorned by the presence of the most gifted 
men of Europe, where intellect and genius re- 
ceived the most flattering recognition, and were 
rewarded munificently, does not fall within the 
province of this book. 

Madame, as the king's stately mother, now in 
the prime of her years and beauty, was called, 
could at last exercise to the full her great talents 
for government, and her influence was felt in 
every corner of France, for, through the son, who 
adored her, she largely ruled the realm. 

But Marguerite reigned the queen of her broth- 
er's court as she had reigned long ago in the smaller 
one of Amboise. Francis was never weary of dis- 



22 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

playing his homage and devotion to his sister. The 
courtiers hung upon her smiles, and exhausted 
language in her praise. Wherever she moved she 
breathed the incense of flattery. Despite her ill- 
starred marriage, despite the gallantries of the gay, 
corrupt court, amid which she moved, the young 
sister of the king passed untouched by scandal 
through the terrible ordeal of those first years of 
her brother's reign. 

All their tastes were in common, and Mar- 
guerite shared with the utmost enthusiasm all 
her brother's plans for beautifying palaces and 
grounds, for founding colleges, for adding fresh 
glory and renown to the kingdom and the line of 
Valois. 

But dark days were in store for the three whose 
exclusive and absorbing devotion had earned them 
throughout Europe the name of " The Trinity of 
France." 

Francis had proved his valor and won his first 
victory at Marignano. Nine years later he met 
the darkest day of his life at Pavia, when he lost 
the battle through the failure of his brother-in-law, 
d'Alengon, to support him. 

The king was in the power of his enemy, 
Charles V. The dreadful tidings of the defeat and 
capture of Francis plunged his realm into despair. 
The misery of his mother and sister it would be 
useless to attempt to describe. Neither can the 
story of that long, dreary imprisonment at Madrid 
be told here. The emperor used his power most 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 23 

ungenerously, and demanded a ransom for his 
royal prisoner which it was impossible for France 
to pay without dismembering the realm. 

The king, languishing of disappointment and 
hope deferred in his foreign prison, was brought 
to the borders of the grave. 

His brother-in-law went home to die of shame 
and remorse; and Marguerite, after attending her 
husband through his last illness with the utmost 
devotion, was left a widow in the flower of her 
days. She afterward made that journey into Spain 
which-is, perhaps, the most signal proof of a sis- 
ter's devotion in the annals of all history. In that 
long, perilous journey Marguerite risked life and 
liberty, but she would joyfully have resigned both 
for her brother's sake. 

The meeting of the king and his sister in the 
dark, lonely prison at Madrid, where Francis was 
apparently drawing his last breath ; his subsequent 
revival ; the interviews of the beautiful widow with 
the cold, crafty, greedy emperor; the impression 
which her loveliness, dignity, and sagacity made 
on him ; the keenness with which she penetrated 
his motives, and outwitted his councils, composed 
of the shrewdest statesmen of Europe ; the reluct- 
ance with which he permitted her departure ; her 
bare escape from arrest on her long, rapid retreat 
from Spain, have all the charm and interest of a 
romance. 

No doubt Marguerite's efforts at this time large- 
ly contributed to the subsequent release of her 



24 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

brother. France, during the forced absence of 
the king, was under the admirable government of 
his mother. She had been appointed regent be- 
fore her son's departure. Her powers were abso- 
lute ; and she sought to raise heaven and earth to 
accomplish the release of her son. 

But soon after Marguerite rejoined her mother, 
who, with many forebodings, had at last granted 
permission for her daughter's famous journey into 
Spain, another royal prisoner made his escape from 
captivity and joined the court. 

This was Henry d'Albret, king of Navarre. He 
was at this time only twenty- two years of age. 
He had been taken captive, fighting valiantly on 
the French king's side, on that ill-fated day of 
Pavia. He had been since that time confined in 
the castle there, and had in vain offered the em- 
peror a large ransom for his liberty. It was of the 
highest importance to Charles V. to hold Henry 
d'Albret his prisoner. 

The little mountain kingdom of Navarre, lying 
on the frontier of France and Spain, had main- 
tained its independence for nearly seven centu- 
ries. The sovereigns of the two great nations 
found it important always to secure the good-will 
of a monarch who, it was scarcely an exaggeration 
to say, wore the keys of the Pyrenees at his girdle. 

The crown of Navarre at last fell by the death 
of male heirs to the young princess, Catharine. 
Ferdinand and Isabella at that time would gladly 
have wedded the heir of Spain to the queen of 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 25 

Navarre. But her mother was the sister of Louis 
XII., and her French sympathies proved stronger 
than her ambitions for the splendid alliance offered 
her daughter. Catharine married John d'Albret, 
a French nobleman, whose large dominions lay- 
adjacent to her own. 

In the year 15 12 war broke out between France 
and Spain, and Ferdinand requested a passage for 
his troops through Navarre. But the sovereigns 
of the little mountain kingdom had already thrown 
in their lot with France. On discovering this, the 
wily, avaricious Ferdinand at once proceeded to 
invade Spanish Navarre. He took its towns and 
forts unprepared for war, compelled its sovereigns 
to flee into France, and overrun the whole king- 
dom on his side the Pyrenees. At the time the 
fairest portion of his heritage was thus shamefully 
wrested from him, Henry of Navarre must have 
reached his ninth year. 

All the efforts of the French king to dislodge 
the Spaniards from the territory of his ally was 
unavailing. What the selfish Ferdinand had seized, 
that he held with the strong hand of greed and 
power. He prevailed on the pope to recognize 
his usurpation, and on his death-bed the hard old 
monarch declared that he felt as easy in keeping 
Navarre as he did his own kingdom of Arragon. 

When Henry succeeded to the crown of his 
brave mother, who died about four years after she 
had seen all her Spanish dominions ruthlessly torn 
from her grasp, he was left only in possession 



26 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

of that portion of Navarre which lay on the French 
side of the Pyrenees. It was natural that the pas- 
sionate desire of his young life should be the res- 
toration of his ancient heritage, and that, like his 
parents, he should cast in his lot with France. 
He had received his education at Amboise, being 
one of that favored circle who shared the studies and 
sports of the prince, and the standard of Navarre 
had been joined with the lilies of France on that 
black day at Pavia. Both monarchs were now at 
the mercy of Charles V. Henry d'Albret, finding 
that all offers of ransom were declined, perceived 
that the emperor intended to force his prisoner 
into ceding the kingdom of Navarre as the sole 
price of his liberty. 

The courageous young monarch, whom nature 
seemed to have endowed with every grace of body 
and mind, now resolved to risk his life, and make 
one last effort for his freedom before he renounced 
his kingdom. It seemed a hopeless undertaking. 
The king was confined in the highest tower of the 
strong old castle of Pavia, and closely guarded. 
But the perils of the enterprise only enhanced 
Henry's determination to accomplish it. 

With admirable skill he set about laying the 
plans for a flight so beset with perils that it must 
have daunted any courage less ardent than his 
own. 

As a king, though he was so closely guarded, 
Henry was held in honorable captivity, and his 
officers and servants were allowed admission to his 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 27 

apartments. By liberal bribes he induced two of 
the guards, posted in the antechamber, to relax 
their strict scrutiny of his attendants: he then 
managed to have a ladder of ropes secretly con- 
veyed to him, resolving to make his escape by this 
frail descent from a window in his chamber sit- 
uated at a fearful height in the principal tower of 
the fortress. 

At midnight, December 20, 1525, the king dis- 
guised himself in the garments of his page, Francis 
de Rochefort, who placed himself in his master's 
bed, and in the darkness the king of Navarre 
made the terrible descent, and landed safely at 
the base of the tower, followed by the Baron 
d'Arras and a servant. 

The court-yard was thronged with soldiers, but 
the page's disguise was so perfect that the monarch 
was not recognized under it, and he passed through 
them in safety. 

Just outside the city walls fleet horses stood in 
waiting. The king vaulted on one, and rode for 
life and liberty to Piedmont. The flight was not 
discovered until the following noon, for, though 
the captain entered at his usual hour to satisfy 
himself of his royal captive's presence, he found 
the curtains drawn closely around the king's couch, 
and a page entreated that his master, who had 
been seriously ill through the night, need not be 
disturbed. 

The officer, wholly deceived, complied. The 
* See Frontispiece. 



28 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

long slumbers of the king began, however, to 
awaken some suspicion, when the officer at last 
entered the apartment and insisted on drawing his 
majesty's curtains. A glance at the faithful page 
told the whole story, and they left Rochefort a 
prisoner in the royal couch. 

There was hot racing for Henry of Navarre. 
He had many hours the start of his pursuers, and 
there was no finer horseman at the French court 
than the handsome chivalric young monarch. On 
that long, perilous flight he hardly drew rein un- 
til he was safe beyond the boundaries of his own 
and his father's enemy. Even then he would not 
pause for rest or refreshment, but pushed on to 
the French coast, where the regent and her daugh- 
ter received the allies of the king with distinguished 
honors. 

Henry d'Albret united to his handsome person 
and his varied manly accomplishments a singular 
majesty and grace of bearing. He inherited his fa- 
ther's intellectual tastes, and had cultivated these 
whenever the opportunity permitted. He had 
rare tact, and remarkable conversational powers ; 
his eloquence surprised and delighted those who 
visited his court. 

Years afterward, when Charles V. visited France, 
he said that, next to Francis I., the most accom- 
plished gentleman at the court was the king of 
Navarre. He had shared the defeat and captivity 
of Marguerite's idolized brother, and this would 
alone have insured her warmest sympathies in 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 29 

his behalf. But Henry d'Albret and the king's 
sister had many tastes in common; while his gal- 
lantry, his heroism, and his perilous escape from 
captivity, could not fail to inspire her admiration. 

The duchess d'Alencon was eleven years older 
than the king of Navarre, but was in the prime 
of her charms and loveliness. She soon inspired 
Henry with the most passionate devotion, and with 
the boldness and ardor of his nature he avowed 
his love, and besought Madame to grant him the 
hand of her daughter. 

The haughty regent listened favorably. Her 
own health was breaking down under hereditary 
maladies, and under the vast responsibilities which 
the captivity of her son had devolved on her. In 
case she relinquished her post, Marguerite had 
been appointed by the king to succeed his mother. 

The young and beautiful woman would need a 
protector, whose position and talents would com- 
mand the allegiance of the court and the nation. 
Henry of Navarre's birth and dominions entitled 
him to ask the hand of the sister of the king of 
France. 

But at this crisis the treaty of Madrid was 
signed, and Francis I. regained his freedom, and 
his people received their king with transports of 
joy on his return. But he did not at first share 
his mother's desire for his sister's union with 
Henry d'Albret. Francis had other aims in view 
for Marguerite. He had learned secretly of the 
growing distaste of Henry VIII, for his Spanish 



30 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

wife, Catharine of Arragon, the aunt of the em- 
peror. 

Francis was more than ready to assist the En- 
glish king in his efforts to obtain a divorce from 
the pope on the ground of the previous union of 
Catharine with Arthur, prince of Wales ; and the 
French king ardently desired that his sister's brow 
might yet be encircled with the crown of England. 
That would be a double triumph over his old ene- 
my, the emperor. 

Madame 's ambition could not fail to be dazzled 
by such prospects, and she actually condescended 
to address Henry VIII. on the subject. 

Marguerite must have suffered acutely at this 
time. Her womanly delicacy could not fail to be 
wounded by the eagerness with which her mother 
and brother sought to dispose of her hand, though 
the prize in store was the crown of England. 

But the will of Francis I. was law to his sister. 
No doubt her personal preferences were with the 
king of Navarre ; but she would acquiesce with- 
out a murmur, and with all the native strength and 
sweetness of her character, submit to the husband 
whom her brother's will assigned her. 

Henry VIII. affected the greatest eagerness for 
the union with the French king's sister ; but his 
growing passion for Anne Boleyn, and the honors 
which he heaped on her, at length convinced 
Francis that Henry only waited to secure the di- 
vorce from his queen before raising the English 
maid of honor to his throne. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 3 1 

Meanwhile the king of Navarre had spared no 
effort to secure some interest in Marguerite's af- 
fections. His native gifts admirably fitted him to 
succeed in his suit. Now that the English mar- 
riage had failed, Francis began to look with more 
favor upon the suit of the less powerful monarch, 
and he finally, and with evident reluctance, gave 
his assent to the marriage. 

Marguerite d'Alencon was sincerely attached to 
the king of Navarre, though her affection never 
for a moment superseded her love for her brother. 
That, as we have seen, was a part of Marguerite's 
life. A little more than a year after her union 
with the king of Navarre the cry of their first- 
born child made joy that winter morning in the 
palace of Fontainebleau. 



32 The Protestant Queen of Navarre y 



CHAPTER II. 

THE joy at the birth of a princess to the line 
of Navarre was not confined to the palace 
of Fontainebleau. 

Francis I., reluctantly compelled by State affairs 
to be in Paris at this time, wrote to his beloved 
sister that her child should hold the same place in 
his affections as his own daughters, Madeline and 
Marguerite. 

The king kept his promise ; he never failed in 
one that he made to his sister. 

The young king of Navarre was also absent at 
the time of his daughter's birth ; but a message 
from his mother-in-law, the imperious regent, 
whose failing health compelled her to reside 
quietly at Fontainebleau, informed him that he 
was the father of a promising daughter. 

Nine days after her birth the princess was bap- 
tized in the palace chapel. They called her 
Jeanne ; and, in the absence of her father and 
uncle, the christening took place without any 
court ceremonies. 

But whatever joy her birth may have occasioned 
to the houses of Valois and Albret, Charles V. 
heard the tidings with bitter regret. She would 
be the heiress of that kingdom of Spanish Navarre 
which the emperor's grandfather, Ferdinand, as 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 33 

we have seen, had shamefully wrested from Henry's 
mother, Catharine d'Albret. 

In the treaty of Navarre, by which Francis I. 
gained his freedom, the king of France had pledged 
himself never to assist Henry to recover his ancient 
heritage ; but on their monarch's return the French 
Parliament positively refused to carry out the pro- 
visions of a treaty which Charles's avarice and 
ambition had extorted from the captive sovereign. 
The grasping emperor had overreached himself. 
Had his demands been more moderate, had he 
not sought to ruin France by compelling the sur- 
render of so large a portion of her frontier and 
provinces, when the chances of war made the sov- 
ereign a prisoner at Madrid, Francis's high sense 
of honor would have held him to the observance 
of the treaty. 

Its disavowal cost the chivalric monarch the 
keenest pangs, as it seemed a stain " on the word 
of a king." 

He carefully observed all the forms of the treaty, 
and in accordance with these, he had, a few weeks 
before the birth of Jeanne, summoned his brother- 
in-law to renounce his dominions, and the title of 
king forever. Henry d'Albret, as every body fore- 
saw, refused to surrender either, saying he would, 
for the love he bore the French king, bestow on 
him all his personal property, but the kingdom of 
Navarre, the inheritance of his mother, was not 
his to give away. Charles V. received this reply 
with one of his cold, bitter sneers, and insisted 



34 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

that the king of Navarre would never have pre- 
sumed to make this refusal had he not been sure 
of the secret support of his powerful brother-in- 
law. 

The birth of an heiress to the line of Navarre 
could not, therefore, be agreeable to one who 
claimed that kingdom for his own ; besides, the 
emperor understood the character of Marguerite, 
and feared her great influence over her brother. 
In her memorable visit to Madrid, her native 
penetration, made doubly keen by her devotion, 
had largely frustrated Charles's designs on France, 
and the young, unaccustomed woman had out- 
witted the shrewdest statesmen of Europe. 

The marriage of Marguerite with the king of 
Navarre must have been exceedingly repugnant 
to one who always regarded every event solely in 
its relations to his own interests, and it was the 
misfortune of Jeanne d'Albret from her birth to 
stand in the way of the designs and aggrandize- 
ment of Charles V. 

She was a bright, vigorous, healthy infant. 
After the custom of royal families in that old 
country, she was taken to Lonray, when only a 
month old, by Madame de Silly, a noble lady, 
and her mother's friend, to whose sole charge 
Jeanne was committed. 

Here she passed the first five years of her life. 
She was a bright, frolicsome girl, overflowing with 
high spirits; and she was happily free from all 
court restraints in that tranquil home atmosphere 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 35 

where the childhood, to be followed by a clouded 
and stormy life, opened so peacefully. 

When she was two years and a half old a son 
was born to Henry and Marguerite. This, of 
course, changed Jeanne's position as heiress of her 
father's kingdom ; but, to the indescribable grief 
of his parents, the boy only survived five months, 
and, by his death, the princess regained a place 
fraught with future peril and misery to herself. 
During the five years in which she resided at 
Lonray the little Jeanne was occasionally taken 
to visit the royal court of St. Germain. 

Her magnificent uncle was extremely fond of 
the beautiful child of his darling Marguerite, and 
lavished caresses and indulgences on her when she 
came to court. 

The child was also the pride and delight of her 
young father ; but it was the fate of Henry d'Al- 
bret to meet always in his dearest affections the 
powerful rivalry of his splendid brother-in-law. 

Marguerite was a loving and loyal wife, yet her 
husband must have known that he could never for 
an instant dispute the pre-eminence which Fran- 
cis I. held in her heart. 

The gracious kindness of her royal uncle com- 
pletely won the affections of his little niece. 
When they unclasped those tender, clinging arms 
from his neck, she would burst into a passion of 
tears, and be borne, sobbing in childish grief, from 
his presence ; and it is not unlikely that her fa- 
ther may sometimes have felt a jealous pang when 
3 



36 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

he thought that in the heart of his daughter, as in 
that of her mother, Francis reigned supreme. 

When Jeanne was three years old her grand- 
mother, Louise of Savoy, died of a lingering 
malady. The haughty and imperious woman had, 
by her great talents, more than once rescued 
France when it seemed on the brink of ruin, and 
restored the honor and glory of her son's crown. 

After her death the king and queen of Navarre 
resolved to leave the court of France for a while, 
and return to their own dominions. 

Henry could hardly have been happy at St. 
Germain. Francis regarded with a certain jeal- 
ousy any homage which Henry received as the 
husband of Marguerite, and permitted him to ex- 
ercise very little influence over the sister whom 
he regarded as belonging exclusively to himself. 

Marguerite's entreaties, however, at last pro- 
cured her brother's reluctant consent to her de- 
parture, but he peremptorily refused to allow 
Jeanne to accompany her parents, declaring it 
his intention to educate her under his own au- 
spices. 

Marguerite readily acquiesced in this arrange- 
ment, which conferred so great an honor on her 
daughter ; besides, the will of Francis was always 
absolute over his sister. 

But her husband was bitterly aggrieved ; he 
discerned, too, the real motive of this arbitrary 
detention of his young daughter. 

The French king, always on guard against his 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 37 

wily foe, the emperor, dreaded lest that monarch 
should make secret overtures to his brother-in- 
law to betroth Jeanne to his young son, afterward 
the redoubtable Philip II. 

So splendid an alliance could not fail to gratify 
the ambition of her father, while the heiress of 
Navarre and Beam would carry her dominions to 
the crown of Spain. 

A rumor gained ground that overtures of this 
kind had secretly been made by the emperor to 
Henry, and it was evident that when his daughter 
was once safely in his own dominions he might 
easily convey her over the frontiers into Spain, 
and brave the anger of Francis. Marguerite vain- 
ly assured the king that her husband was incapa- 
ble of so disloyal an act. Francis was inflexible; 
he never doubted his sister, but he feared the 
offer would be too tempting a one for the king of 
Navarre to resist, if, as there was every reason to 
suppose, the emperor should make it. 

But to soften his arbitrary command that his 
niece should not accompany her parents, the king 
announced his determination of betrothing her to 
his second son Henry, Duke d'Orleans. The 
prince was now in his thirteenth year, and this 
alliance of Jeanne with her cousin was highly 
agreeable to both father and mother. 

It at least partially reconciled Henry to leaving 
his daughter in France ; and as Marguerite wisely 
objected to her daughter's residence at the court, 
with its gayeties and dissipations, Francis assigned 



38 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

her a permanent home at the royal palace of 
Plessis les Tours. 

It was a solemn, gloomy place for the bright, 
eager, high-spirited girl. It is true that she kept 
a state there becoming the daughter and niece of 
kings, and had young companions to share her 
studies and sports ; but the castle of Plessis had 
been the residence of that royal monster, Louis 
XI. Dark woods surrounded the palace, and the 
mournful voices of the winds among the leaves 
must have seemed almost like the wail of the vic- 
tims of the bloody old monarch. 

The iron cages still hung in the courts, and the 
wide grounds were full of the traps and pit-falls 
which the hated tyrant, in order to insure his own 
safety, had constructed about his dwelling. 

These things could not fail to impress the sen- 
sitive imaginative young soul inclosed within the 
gloomy old walls of Plessis les Tours. 

The qualities which were to make Jeanne d'Al- 
bret in many respects the most remarkable woman 
of her age began already to display themselves. 
She showed the fearlessness, the flashing discern- 
ment, the out-spoken frankness, which rendered 
her in later life so famous. She overflowed with 
vivacity and energy. She had plenty of faults, but 
none of them were of a small, ignoble character. 

Madame de Silly listened with consternation to 
Jeanne's fearless talk, when her magnificent uncle 
rode out with his royal train to Plessis to visit his 
niece. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 39 

The king would scarcely have borne such free- 
dom from his own children as he did from the 
daughter of his beloved Marguerite, that little 
girl who probably stood in less awe of the grand 
monarch than any other human being did in all 
France. 

As the child grew in years, the enforced separa- 
tion from her parents became more painful to her. 
With that swift penetration which always went 
straight to the heart of things, Jeanne perceived 
the reason of her detention in France, and in her 
secret soul must have resented the arbitrary fiat 
of her uncle. 

The little girl at Plessis, gazing with a shudder 
on the great iron cages where Louis Xljf. had 
immured his victims, listening to the mournful 
sighing of the winds among the dark old forests 
around the castle, longed for the home in Beam, 
for the sight of her mother's beautiful face, for the 
sound of her brave, gallant, young father's voice ; 
and, with her instinctive feeling for the truth, 
she must have known there was little love be- 
tween her father and his powerful brother-in-law. 

Whatever there was painful to Marguerite in 
this separation from her only child, her absolute 
surrender to the will of the king made the mother 
bear the trial without a murmur. But Jeanne, 
clear-sighted and independent here, as always, 
did not so easily yield to his decisions. 

The betrothal to the duke d'Orleans was broken 
off by the same arbitrary fiat. Had this engage- 



? 



40 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

ment been consummated it would eventually have 
placed her on the throne of France ; but Jeanne 
was probably too young at this time to take much 
interest in a matter which so deeply concerned 
her whole future. 

The king, yielding to his passionate desire to 
gain some advantage over his ancient foe, the 
emperor, with whom he was now on the point 
of again going to war, did not hesitate to sacrifice 
his niece to his ambition. 

In order to attach the pope to his own side 
in the coming contest, Francis offered to marry 
Prince Henry to Catherine de Medici, the niece 
of Clement VII. 

So dazzling an offer was eagerly accepted by the 
pope, and while Jeanne was pursuing her studies 
in the lofty old chambers, or wandering through 
the solemn gloom of the courts of Plessis, the 
splendid bridal squadron was coming to anchor 
at Marseilles, and on board of it was the dark- 
eyed, bright-faced Florentine, who was to wed the 
son of the king, and whose future was to be so 
closely bound up with that of the young girl at 
Plessis, whom Catherine had supplanted. 

Misery enough was to come of this Italian 
marriage to the line of Valois and the realm of 
France ! But the duke's bride received a joyful 
welcome when she stepped on shore in old 
Marseilles. 

The bells rang, and the cannon thundered, and 
the trumpets poured their stormy n>usic along 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 41 

the streets, hung with gay tapestries, where the 
Italian girl of only fourteen years passed, showing 
her childish face to the shouting multitudes. 

King Henry was greatly incensed at the sum- 
mary way in which his daughter's hand had been 
put aside, but he was powerless to show his re- 
sentment. It was enough for his wife that the 
interests or will of her brother demanded the 
annulling of an engagement which had so deeply 
gratified her maternal pride and affection. 

But it was a bad day for France when the duke 
d'Orleans resigned the hand of his cousin for that 
of Catherine de Medici ! 

The quiet shades of Plessis made a better home 
for Jeanne d'Albret than the gay palaces of her 
uncle. Here she pursued her studies in peace, 
and early gave evidence of those rare intellectual 
gifts which made her one of the most remarkable 
women of a century so renowned for its great 
women. 

It was very early evident that Jeanne d'Albret 
was no ordinary character. Her mind, keen, 
vigorous, and alert, developed early under the 
severe mental training which her teachers pre- 
scribed for her. 

Her nature was limpidly truthful ; disguise or 
deceit in any form were as impossible as they 
were utterly hateful to her. Threats or persua- 
sions had little effect when her mind was once 
made up. She seemed incapable of fear; and 
her teachers disliked to arouse her anger because 



42 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

of the keen irony of her retorts. So in the sol- 
emn shades of Plessis, the bright, warm-hearted 
child, with all her noble, generous traits, came up 
into her early girlhood. The long, stormy future 
which lay before Jeanne d'Albret did not over- 
shadow the happy child-life in the gloomy old 
castle. 

It was simply the fear lest the king of Navarre, 
if he once had his daughter in his possession, 
should bestow her hand on the prince of Spain, 
and carry the dowry of her fair dominions in the 
south of France to the house of Hapsburg, which 
made Francis insist on a separation that seemed 
a cruel wrong to those most concerned. The em- 
peror was known to ardently desire the union to 
wipe out the disgrace of his unsuccessful invasion 
of France, which took place when the princess was 
about eight years old. 

Would Henry be able to decline so splendid an 
offer as the hand of the prince of Spain for his 
daughter — one, too, which would afford him so 
signal a triumph over the king of France for 
breaking Jeanne's engagement with the Duke 
d'Orleans ? 

It was natural that Francis, with his suspicions, 
should ask this question, and that, with his impe- 
rious will, he should resolve to keep the princess 
in his power. 

The name of Philip of Spain had already be- 
come a sound of ill omen to Jeanne d'Albret. It 
was to be this through her whole life. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 43 

As the years went on, and she entered her teens, 
she grew at length to dislike her gloomy abode at 
Plessis. The iron cages, the traps, the pitfalls, the 
winds moaning in the forests, affected her spirits. 
She pined to rejoin her beloved parents, or, if that 
dearest boon was denied her, she wished at least to 
be permitted to reside at the French court, and 
share the gay life of her relatives there. 

Hers was not a nature to relinquish any object 
on which she had set her heart ; the ardent spirit 
pined and drooped in its seclusion. She lost in- 
terest in her studies. She used to wander sad 
and tearful through the old park and halls of 
Plessis, her bright hair floating negligently over 
her shoulders. She used to sit for hours in her 
chamber listening to the wail of the winds in the 
dense forests, her face clouded with brooding 
melancholy. 

It was a hard fate for the eager, warm-hearted 
girl to be separated from her kin, and all the pleas- 
ant world outside, and be shut up in that lonely ^ 
old castle of Louis XI3f. , where the very air seemed 
haunted with the moans of his victims. Plainly 
something must be done promptly, or the young 
princess of Navarre would sink into hopeless 
despondency. Her uncle was alarmed. Here 
was a problem which even his royal will could not 
solve. 

He did not wish to insist upon Jeanne's remain- 
ing at Plessis when the consequences might be 
fatal to her- He dared not deliver his niece to 



44 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

her father so long as the son and heir of the em- 
peror had a hand free to bestow on her. 

At this crisis a happy solution of the difficulty- 
presented itself to Francis. The duke of Cleves 
arrived at the French court. He had just reached 
his twenty-fourth birthday. He was tall, hand- 
some, an accomplished cavalier, generous to his 
dependents, splendid in the dress and equipage 
which his ample means allowed. 

His family seemed to have attained almost the 
summit of human prosperity and grandeur. The 
duke's oldest sister, Isabella, had married Fred- 
eric, Elector of Saxony ; his youngest, Anne, now 
wore the crown of England, being the fourth 
wife of Henry VIII. The royal marriage, how- 
ever, had not been without its drawbacks. The 
king, it was well known, was not fond of the Ger- 
man wife whom State reasons had forced upon 
him ; and, in his coarse, hard fashion — no Tudor 
ever minced words — he called her " The German 
Mare!" she, who went among her own people by 
the graceful name of " The White Swan of Flan- 
ders ! " But serious business had brought the duke 
of Gueldres to the French court. His father, the 
son-in-law to whom duke Ulric had bequeathed 
the duchy, died suddenly before he was fairly in- 
stalled in his new honors. The emperor, ever 
watchful for his own interests, now fastened his 
iron grasp on the broad lands of the duchy, 
arbitrarily setting aside the right of William's son, 
and declaring that the duchy had escheated to the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 45 

crown, and would be incorporated with the Low 
Countries. 

In this strait the new duke renounced his alle- 
giance to the emperor, placed strong garrisons in 
the principal towns, sent a body of troops to de- 
fend the frontiers of his duchy, and came to the 
French court to solicit succor of the king, and to 
demand the investiture from Francis I. 

The welcome which greeted the proud young 
duke of Cleves exceeded his most sanguine hopes. 
The French king, always glad of an opportunity 
to annoy his great rival, at once promised succor 
to the duchy in men and money ; and then a 
happy thought flashed across the mind of Francis. 
He could bestow the hand of his niece on the 
duke, thus relieving himself of all apprehensions 
regarding her marriage to the prince of Spain ; 
while there would be no longer any reason for de- 
taining her at Plessis, and Jeanne could be allowed 
to rejoin her parents at Beam. It is likely, too, 
that Francis was secretly glad to restore his niece 
to her father and mother, when he could do so 
with what he regarded safety to himself. 
• This reasoning must have seemed plausible, and 
Francis, rash and impetuous, usually followed the 
first impulse. He offered the hand of the princess 
of Navarre to the duke of Cleves, who, overjoyed, 
accepted it ; the king at once acquainted her 
parents with his decision. Great was the indigna- 
tion of Henry of Navarre. This high-handed pro- 
ceeding of his royal brother-in-law added another 



46 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

to the many wrongs and indignities whose memory 
burned in the breast of one who felt that he, too, 
was a king. Henry's griefs were not imaginary. 
Francis had violated his promise to give his niece 
to her cousin, the duke d'Orleans. He had arbi- 
trarily separated the heiress of Navarre from her 
parents during her tender childhood in order that 
she should not make an alliance, the most splendid 
which the world had to offer; and in bestowing 
her on the duke of Cleves, a prince in arms 
against the emperor, he was not only cutting off 
the king of Navarre's last chance of regaining 
that portion of his dominions which lay on the 
Spanish side of the Pyrenees, but the invasion and 
subjection of the rest of his territories would be 
sure to follow. 

Henry's little kingdom lay between two perils. 
The powerful sovereign on either side the frontier 
might seize upon it at any moment. He had suf- 
fered cruel wrong at the hands of both monarchs, 
not the least of which he must have regarded the 
arbitrary separation from his only child, and her 
betrothal without his consent. But Francis was 
inexorable, and Henry was powerless. Marguerite 
did not share her husband's dislike to the mar- 
riage of their child. Her generous and gentle 
nature probably cherished a deeper resentment 
toward Charles V. than toward any other human 
being. To his hardness and greed she owed 
the sharpest trials of her life, and despite the 
splendor of the offer, no maternal ambition stirred 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 47 

her soul at the thought of her daughter's mar- 
riage with the son of the emperor, the Prince 
of the Asturias. The duke of Cleves was a Prot- 
estant, and nothing could have recommended him 
so strongly to Marguerite's favor as this fact. 
Moreover, the will of her brother was law with 
her in this matter, as in all other circumstances 
of her life. 

She did all she could to soothe her husband's 
opposition. And when Francis solemnly declared 
that the French banners should be unfurled in 
Beam if his brother-in-law attempted any negotia- 
tions with the emperor, and that he would annex 
the territory to his own dominions in case Henry 
dared to convey his daughter across the frontier, 
the king of Navarre was at last compelled to yield. 

There remained now nothing to do but to ac- 
quaint the person most interested with the ar- 
rangements for her betrothal. These had been 
completed without the slightest reference to her 
wishes. 

One day Francis ordered a royal hunt along the 
banks of the Loire. The splendid train swept 
through the forest with the sound of bugles, the 
blowing of trumpets, the cry of the hounds, and 
the thunder of the horses' feet amid the green si- 
lences of the woods. 

Francis, who rode at the head of his train, 
suddenly made a sign to a few of his favored 
courtiers, parted from the others, and spurred 
rapidly toward the gloomy old castle of Plessis. 



48 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

There was a sudden sound of hurrying riders 
outside, a storming at the gates, then a cry rang 
through the gloom of the old galleries that the king 
had come ; and a young girl, just blossoming into 
lovely maidenhood, sprang out, overjoyed to meet 
him. 

After the first fond welcomes were over, the 
monarch graciously informed his niece that he 
had bestowed her hand on the duke of Cleves. 

What was his astonishment to see her flush with 
indignation one moment, and the next, burst into 
a passionate flood of tears ! With a strong effort 
she soon controlled her feelings, and once more 
approaching her uncle she fervently besought him 
that she need not be betrothed to the duke of 
Cleves. 

Francis was greatly irritated. The slightest dis- 
play of opposition to his royal will always aroused 
his anger, and he was accustomed to the most 
implicit obedience from those around him. He 
sternly repeated his commands, and turning away 
with marked displeasure in tone and bearing, left 
his sobbing niece. 

And now the freedom so long pined for had 
come, and Jeanne was to leave the gloomy shades 
of Plessis for the great world. 

Her uncle's commands left her no choice; but 
it may be, amid the hurried preparations for her 
departure, the little girl — she was only that yet — 
half regretted the solemn gloom of the home she 
was leaving behind her. The freedom she had 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 49 

longed for had come at last, but in a form which 
deprived it of all its pleasures. 

The prospect of a union with the duke of Cleves, 
the home in Germany, the new splendid life open- 
ing before her, which would have dazzled the im- 
agination of most young girls, had no charm for 
Jeanne d'Albret. 

Her dawning intellect, her native force of char- 
acter, made her instinctively rebel against a union 
so cruelly forced upon her. She felt in her in- 
most soul the injustice that was being done her. 
But it was useless to rebel. 

What right had the niece of the king of France 
to a mind or will of her own? Had not even 
her proud father, the sovereign of a realm, been 
forced to yield, with a bad grace, it is true, to his 
powerful brother-in-law ? 

The little girl was hurried from Plessis to Paris, 
and there surrounded with the pomp and cere- 
mony of the French Court. It was like going 
from one world to another. 

Jeanne d'Albret was presented to the bride- 
groom assigned to her. 

The handsome, accomplished cavalier, with all 
his gallant attentions, could not overcome Jeanne's 
instinctive repugnance toward him. 

She could give no reason for this, and, no doubt, 
her dislike seemed the foolish caprice of a child 
on the part of those who witnessed it. They, of 
course, could not suspect that unerring penetration, 
that marvelous sagacity, which pierced through all 



50 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

disguises to the soul of things, and read, in after 
years, the hearts of men and women as an open 
book. They could not know how she looked be- 
hind the mask of handsome presence and courtly 
manners, to the real character of the man who 
was to be her husband, and found him wanting in 
every noble quality. 

At this time, as through her whole life, Jeanne 
d'Albret did not attempt to conceal her feelings. 
She received the homage of duke William with 
cold disdain, and her lips curled with silent scorn, 
when she saw his profound deference to her grand 
uncle ; and all the estate and importance to which 
she suddenly found herself elevated, did not seem 
to afford her the slightest pleasure. 

Madame de Silly, and others around her, remon- 
strated with the obstinate girl. They endeavored 
to alarm her fears by painting in strong colors the 
effect which her conduct would produce on the 
mind of her future husband, and which would 
inevitably react on herself. She was not to be 
moved ; and her replies showed that she regarded 
the union as one which did her no honor, and 
that she thought the duchy of Cleves was a poor 
marriage gift for the heiress of Beam. 

Jeanne was right here. The daughter of a 
king, the heiress of a realm, who might set the 
crown of Spain on her brow, was hardly making 
an equal union when she married her uncle's 
vassal. 

Francis, who, in this matter, showed a selfish 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 5 1 

regard to his own interests, was highly displeased 
at the opposition of a girl scarcely past her 
twelfth birthday. 

He could only attribute her conduct to some se- 
cret influence of her father. Possessed with this 
idea, he expressed it in his usual imperious man- 
ner to Madame de Silly, before the princess' 
departure to join her mother at Alencon. He 
requested the governess to report his words to 
queen Marguerite, and also exhort her to influ- 
ence her daughter to show a more becoming sub- 
mission to his authority. 

Marguerite was greatly distressed on hearing 
these tidings. She had never in her life opposed 
a command of her brother's ; and her natural 
delight on folding her dearly-beloved child once 
more to her heart, must have been much alloyed 
by the messages which she received from the 
king. 

With all the power and eloquence of which she 
was mistress, she reasoned and expostulated with 
Jeanne on presuming to oppose her will at this 
time to her uncle's. 

Marguerite's distress was enhanced at this crisis, 
because she was quite aware of the suspicions 
lurking in her brother's mind regarding her hus- 
band's loyalty. 

In her grief she wrote a letter to her brother 
full of apology, or of what seems now abject sub- 
mission ; but her position at this crisis was a very 
wrong one, and it is difficult to judge for her. 
4 



52 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Wife and mother though she was, when the test 
came, the sister always triumphed in the heart of 
Marguerite d'Angouleme. She professed the ut- 
most amazement and indignation that her daughter 
should presume to dispute her uncle's will; she 
depicted the grief and anger of Jeanne's father at 
his daughter's conduct, threw the blame on her 
youth and inexperience, and expressed a belief 
that the child was secretly instigated in her re- 
bellion by some unknown person who had inspired 
her with a deep repugnance to this marriage. 

But the mother found her daughter obstinate. 
Threats could not alarm, persuasions could not 
move her, and she ended by declaring that she 
should die if this marriage with her hated German 
suitor were persisted in. 

Her mother was desperate. This revolt on the 
part of her child seemed to Marguerite unpar- 
donably wicked. 

She herself had accepted submissively the hus- 
bands assigned her by two kings in turn. She 
had done this at an age, too, which entitled her 
wishes to a consideration that her daughter's 
youth did not, but never dreamed of questioning 
their right to dispose of her hand. 

In that iron century people largely held the 
Roman ideas of the absolute authority of parents, 
and the subjection of children. 

I hate to write what follows of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme, for her conduct at this crisis cannot 
be justified, although the sentiment of the times 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 5 3 

and her own trying position must always be borne 
in mind. 

She, the gentlest and tenderest of women, actu- 
ally threatened to have her child whipped to death 
if she persisted in her refusal to espouse the duke 
of Cleves ! 

The intrepid spirit of the girl was not daunted 
by this horrible threat. But the toils seemed 
closing around their helpless young victim ! Or- 
ders were suddenly received from the French 
court that the princess was to be affianced without 
delay to the duke of Cleves in the grand hall of 
Alencon, and afterward to be conducted by her 
mother to Chatellerault, where the marriage cere- 
mony could be solemnized with due splendor 
before the court. It was the will of the king ! 

Finding resistance was in vain, Jeanne had re- 
course to a last expedient. She made a secret 
protest against her marriage, and caused three of 
her servants to sign their names as witnesses to 
this singular document. It was written through- 
out with her own hands. She insists in the strong- 
est possible terms that the marriage is wholly 
against her will, that she never has consented, 
and never will consent to it. In an intelligent, 
straightforward, and most touching manner, she 
relates her story; she repeats the persuasions that 
had been used ; the threats, even to that one of 
being whipped to death at the hands of Madame 
de Silly, which she had endured. 

Probably, however, nobody had the faintest idea 



54 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

of executing a threat to which Jeanne's obstinacy 
had driven her mother. 

Jeanne relates how she had been told that she 
should be the ruin of her parents and her house, 
and how in her extremity she had none but God 
to appeal to. She concludes by solemnly affirm- 
ing that she never can love the duke of Cleves. 
If she is forced against her heart and will into 
affiancing or marrying him, it will be wholly 
against her heart and in defiance of her will, and 
the union must, therefore, be null and void, for 
that she will never hold or regard him as her hus- 
band. 

In reading this remarkable document one is im- 
pressed with a feeling that it never could have 
proceeded from the brain and heart of a girl of 
twelve years. It is likely that, despite Jeanne's 
native strength of will, some powerful influence 
was at work which sustained her against her 
mother's threats and her uncle's wrath. 

This could hardly have proceeded from any 
other source than her father. The open opposi- 
tion of the king of France to his daughter's mar- 
riage with the duke of Cleves had been stifled; 
but he probably regarded it with secret repug- 
nance, and availed himself of any means which 
might tend to annul the union in the future. 

The offer of the prince of Spain must have 
presented a dazzling temptation to the king of 
Navarre. He was not likely to share his brother- 
in-law's animosity toward Charles V., and his 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 5 5 

marriage with the sister of the French king had 
not strengthened the old friendship between the 
monarchs. 

The ruling passion of Henry's life was to regain 
his ancient dominions on the Spanish frontiers. 
The marriage of his daughter with Philip would 
not only bring back those lost provinces to the 
line of Albret, but would set on the young temples 
of its heiress the crown of Spain. 

All this Francis knew perfectly well. He must 
have seen how tempting the bait was to his broth- 
er-in-law. This accounts not only for Jeanne's 
long arbitrary detention at Plessis, but for the 
peremptory measures regarding her marriage. 

The king of Navarre was wise enough to yield 
to the inevitable ; but he may still have cherished 
a faint hope that some favorable event would in- 
terpose to prevent this marriage, and that his 
daughter's union with the prince of Spain might 
yet be accomplished. He was not a man, as 
we have seen, to relinquish easily any plan on 
which he had set his heart ; and in case a 
change of circumstances should make her union 
with the duke of Cleves undesirable, so shrewd 
a monarch could not fail to perceive that his 
daughter's protest would be of immense value. 
But events were too strong for her now. In 
spite of her repugnance the poor young princess 
was formally betrothed to the duke of Cleves in 
the great hall of the castle, and afterward accom- 
panied her mother to the court, where her nuptials 



56 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

were to be celebrated with a grandeur befitting a 
daughter of France. 

The young girl conducted herself with a discre- 
tion at this time which would have done honor 
to a mature woman. Before she left Alencon she 
placed on record a second protest, inscribed with 
the signatures of the same witnesses as her former 
one. In the later and shorter document she sol- 
emnly reiterates her previous affirmations, declar- 
ing that her betrothal was pretended, her marriage 
made under compulsion, and that it would never 
be regarded by herself as binding ; and that she 
now made her protest with the hope that it might 
yet avail her. 

She had done what she could; but, notwith- 
standing her temper and spirit, when one takes 
her years and all the circumstances into account, 
one is compelled to believe that her father must 
have been at the bottom of this singular docu- 
ment. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 57 



CHAPTER III. 

THE most sumptuous arrangements for her 
marriage awaited the princess of Navarre 
on her arrival at the French court. 

Francis had resolved that the marriage of Mar- 
guerite's daughter, the niece whom he had adopted 
as his own child, should be celebrated with all the 
pomp and magnificence in which his soul de- 
lighted. He now quite ignored Jeanne's wishes in 
the matter, which he must have regarded as child- 
ish and unreasonable, unless, which is more prob- 
able, he believed she was sustained in her opposi- 
tion to his will by her father. But Francis having 
had his own way, remitted all further signs of his 
displeasure. 

The bridegroom elect wearied at last of his vain 
efforts to win the princess's favor. It must have 
been a thankless task for the handsome duke ; 
and he now devoted himself to Queen Marguerite, 
whose beauty and fascinations made him almost 
forget the disdain manifested by her- daughter. 

The marriage took place on the fifteenth of 
July, 1540. Nothing could exceed the splendor 
with which the youthful bride was adorned. Her 
robe of cloth-of-gold literally blazed with jewels. 
A ducal coronet of the richest gems shone on the 
sad, childish brow. 



5 8 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

The great officers of state, the nobility of 
France, assembled at Chatellerault to witness the 
marriage ceremonies of the niece of the king. 
They surpassed in splendor any thing which that 
gorgeous court of Francis I. had ever witnessed ; 
the sums expended on them exceeded the cost 
of that grand coronation which made Charles V. 
emperor of Germany. 

Yet this adds only to the touching pathos of 
the central figure of all the splendor, sitting there 
in the midst of the dazzling throng of princes and 
courtiers with her childish face and her aching 
heart beneath. Through all those trying scenes 
the brave little girl did not hesitate to show her 
real feeling. 

When the king approached to lead her to the 
altar, Jeanne rose from her chair, then suddenly 
declared herself faint and unable to walk under 
the oppressive weight of the gold and jewels of 
her robes. The king was inexpressibly annoyed. 
He glanced at the brilliant cortege about him, 
and commanded the constable of France, de 
Montmorency, to take the princess in his arms 
and bear her to the chapel. So they carried 
Jeanne d'Albret an unwilling bride to the altar. 

The festivities which followed seem like some 
gorgeous tale of Eastern romance. Nothing in 
France had ever equaled the pomp and display of 
those eight days which celebrated the union of 
the princess of Navarre with the duke of Cleves. 
They opened with a magnificent ball and banquet, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 59 

at which, by express command of the king, the 
child-bride had to appear. At the ensuing pa- 
geants they mostly dispensed with her presence. 
She in whose honor all these festivals were held 
could hardly have been, with her sad, listless face, 
an agreeable element in the pomp and the mirth. 

The duke of Cleves accompanied the young 
bride to her mother's apartments, and consigned 
her, probably with small reluctance, to Queen 
Marguerite's care. 

Her uncle had decided before her marriage 
that his niece should remain with her parents for 
the next three years, at the end of which time the 
duke could alone claim her for his wife. 

The jousts and tournaments — so prominent a 
part of that old feudal life — were held in the 
meadow of Chatellerault. On that wide, green 
plain, in the pleasant midsummer days, halls, gal- 
leries, triumphal arches, were made of verdant 
boughs, amid which shone the fair devices of 
ladies interlaced with the arms of their cavaliers. 
There were booths with hermits clad in green and 
gray velvets ; while in another part of the vast 
meadow were beautiful ladies attired like nymphs 
and dryads, and attended by dwarfs. 

How like a fairy tale it all seems now, and 
what a scene of dazzling picturesqueness the soft, 
green intervale must have been in that old mid- 
summer more than three hundred years ago ! 

One half wishes that it would rise just for a lit- 
tle while, with all its pomp and glitter, out of that 



60 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

dusty old century, until one reads that this mag- 
nificence had to be paid for by a tax levied on the 
poor, half-starved peasantry and workingmen ; and 
then one is very glad, and thanks God that all the 
pageantry and splendor have faded away with the 
dust and noise of that old century. 

Through many midsummers that old plain of 
Chatellerault had been gay with blossoms, yet it 
had never shone with such variegated hues as now 
in the gorgeous human spectacle which covered it; 
but over all this splendor there seems to hover a 
sad, young face under a ducal coronet, and one 
cannot help thinking of the bride of twelve years, 
with her heart keeping its steady ache beneath its 
robes of cloth-of-gold. They saluted her by the 
proud title of duchess of Cleves, they surrounded 
her with all imaginable state and homage, but no 
look of pride or gladness ever shone in the listless 
child-face; only a flush of instinctive dislike and 
indignation always mantled it when the handsome 
duke came, as in duty bound, to pay his respects 
to his bride. 

But when the festivals came to an end, the 
worst, for the present, was over for Jeanne d'Albret. 
The duke left the court to prosecute the war 
against the emperor. Francis made him the 
most glowing promises of support, declaring that 
himself or the dauphin would ride into Germany 
at the head of the French army. 

The princess, now invariably addressed as 
duchess of Cleves, gladly bade farewell to her 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 61 

uncle, who overwhelmed her with costly gifts, and 
accompanied her parents to their pleasant home 
in Beam. The two years which followed were, 
perhaps, on the whole, the happiest of Jeanne 
d'Albret's life. Here, in the sunny heritage of 
her fathers, she lived in peace with the beautiful 
and gentle mother, with the brave and gallant fa- 
ther, whom she adored. 

Of course she could never go back again, never 
be the child she was on that morning when the 
steeds thundered and the trumpets blew at the 
gates of Plessis, and she sprang joyfully forward to 
meet the king. The days which followed, with all 
their splendor and misery, must have left their 
marks on her young soul. Yet the influence of 
her mother's character and example was most 
happy over the ardent, vivacious girl. 

At the court of Navarre the most learned men 
of the world assembled, and here the princess was 
thrown into constant companionship with the great 
Protestant reformers, refugees in Beam. 

She had been brought up by her uncle's orders 
a devout Catholic, but here she was taught the 
new faith in its simplicity and purity. The fer- 
vor and the absolute self-renunciation of the lives 
of the leaders of the Reformation could not fail to 
awaken the interest and sympathy of a nature like 
hers. 

One fact, however, bore strongly against the 
Lutheran creed in Jeanne's mind. It was the 
faith of the detested duke of Cleves, and any 



62 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

circumstance which seemed to forge a new link 
between herself and the man whose name she 
bore, was repugnant to the princess. 

No doubt the queen did all which lay in her 
power to reconcile her daughter to her marriage, 
but Jeanne's instinct seldom yielded to persuasion 
or menace. Neither is it likely that she shared 
her mother's adoration for her royal uncle. 
She had many grievances against him. There 
was the long separation from her parents, the 
gloom of the stately home at Plessis ; there was 
the bitterer wrong of her enforced marriage ; 
there was her young life overshadowed with dread 
for her future. 

Jeanne d'Albret had a character in many re- 
spects precisely the opposite of her mother's. 
The daughter's affection never blinded her to the 
faults of those she loved. Marguerite was brave 
as a lion ; but if any thing clouded that fine, clear 
intellect, it w T as the tenderness of her heart. 
Each had a lofty but different work to do in the 
world ; each perhaps was best fitted for her own 
post. Jeanne had not the grace and charm of 
imagination which made Marguerite d'Angouleme 
so admirable and so lovely. 

The daughter was of stronger fiber ; her mind 
was of a severer cast. No proud position could be- 
wilder her native penetration ; no personal charms 
could win an approval which her judgment did not 
confirm. All the training of courts could not change 
her ardent, outspoken nature ; could hardly re- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 63 

strain its honest, straightforward expression. Per- 
haps the most marked feature of her remarkable 
intellect was its power of probing straight to the 
secret motives and aims of those with whom she 
was brought in contact. This was to serve her 
well in the long, hard fate before her. 

Meanwhile she pursued her studies in the quiet 
of Beam, as became a king's daughter. She had 
the best instructors of the age. She daily read 
the Scriptures, and heard the theological discus- 
sions between her mother and the Protestants, 
and the young, alert mind gradually formed those 
religious convictions which, under all the fierce 
trials awaiting her, never swerved. 

At the end of those three happy years at Beam, 
fresh troubles were in store for the princess of 
Navarre. The exasperated emperor, with an army 
of forty thousand infantry and eight thousand 
horse, intended for the invasion of France, sud- 
denly entered the duchy of Cleves, and laid siege 
to Dueren, resolved on teaching his rebellious 
vassal a lesson he would never forget. 

The duke was desperate. He dispatched courier 
after courier to Francis, telling him the condition 
of the duchy, and imploring the promised succor. 
But the king's hands were full at this time. Part 
of* the army was engaged before Landrecy, and a 
part, under the command of the dauphin, had cap- 
tured so many fortresses in the Low Countries 
that it was difficult to provide them with garrisons. 
The duke was certainly in a bad case when his 



64 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

powerful ally dismissed the messenger with vague 
promises of future assistance. 

Dueren fell. The imperial troops, with theii 
usual cruelty, slaughtered the defenseless inhab- 
itants. Several of the principal towns of the 
duchy, terrified at the massacre, hastened to make 
submission. Charles V., with his victorious troops, 
sat down before Venloo, threatening to sack the 
city if it did not capitulate within the interval he 
assigned. 

The duke saw his fair dominions about to fall 
into the hands of the merciless victor. A panic 
seized him and his ministers. Two courses re- 
mained open to him. One was abject submission 
to the authority of the emperor; the other was 
to abandon the duchy, join with his troops the 
French army at Luxembourg, and, fighting under 
the banners of France, win back gloriously his 
ancient heritage. 

An honorable nature would not have hesitated 
a moment, but the ignoble soul which Jeanne 
d'Albret's true instinct had discerned under all 
disguises of handsome presence and accomplished 
manners, came to the surface now. 

The courage of the duke of Cleves suddenly 
forsook him ; his craven spirit gained the mastery. 
He forgot his childish bride, though she had 
brought him a kingdom ; he forgot the gorgeous 
splendor of the bridal — the eight days' pageants — 
at Chatellerault which had so gratified his pride 
and ambition, and he resolved, at the cost of any 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 6$ 

personal humiliations, to make his peace with the 
emperor and retain the duchy. 

Meanwhile Francis, wishing to convince the 
emperor that he was fully resolved to espouse the 
cause of the duke, sent express commands to 
Beam that his niece should proceed to the camp 
at Luxembourg, in order that he himself might 
conduct her to Aix. 

The poor young girl's despair on receiving this 
message cannot be depicted. She insisted amid 
her tears that she should die if they compelled 
her to obey her uncle's summons. She implored 
her father, of whose sympathy she was assured, 
to save her from German exile, and from a fate 
which she shuddered to contemplate. 

It must have been a cruel hour for Henry of 
Navarre, a cruel one for the tender heart of his 
wife, who vainly sought, by pleadings and exhorta- 
tions, to convince her daughter of the necessity 
of submitting to the will of the king. There was 
no help for it. 

The princess was at last compelled to take an 
agonized farewell of her mother, and to depart 
from Beam for her new home, accompanied by 
her father, whose heart must have been wrung 
with grief for his child. 

It was a hard fate to be a princess at that time ; 
and the thought of the ducal coronet, with its blaze 
of jewels, which they had set on her childish fore- 
head that day at Chatellerault, must have seemed 
like a band of fire. 



66 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Meanwhile, the duke, unaware of the steps which 
the French king had taken in his behalf, had pro- 
ceeded to the emperor's camp at Venloo, attended 
by only fifteen followers ; his craven soul prepared 
to accept any conditions which Charles V., in the 
pride of victory, might impose. 

The emperor harshly refused to see the rebel- 
lious vassal who entreated an audience ; but it was 
intimated that the chancellor de Granville would 
afford him the hospitality of his tent while the 
fate of his duchy was pending. 

The crest-fallen duke repaired to Granville's 
tent, and at last his entreaties and remonstrances 
prevailed on the minister to seek the emperor, and 
plead his cause. It is likely the whole programme 
had been arranged between the sovereign and his 
astute chancellor. 

Before nightfall the cheering intelligence was 
brought to the duke that the emperor, learning of 
William's deep repentance and readiness to atone 
for his treason, would graciously admit him to 
audience the next day. 

Early on the following morning the duke pre- 
sented himself at the door of a large tent which 
the emperor had selected as the place of audience. 

Charles V. had resolved to make the scene as 
impressive and humiliating as possible for his of- 
fending vassal. 

The great monarch sat in his chair of state, the 
crown on his head, the scepter in his hand. As 
the duke of Cleves advanced, accompanied by 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 67 

three powerful mediators, Charles V. averted his 
head, and his severe melancholy features assumed 
a threatening frown. 

The craven duke then spoke : " Most august em- 
peror ! I come to throw myself at your feet, to 
accept whatever chastisement you may choose to 
inflict for my past sins, or to receive from your 
clemency a hope, however faint it may be, of par- 
don and grace." 

The duke of Brunswick, one of the three actors 
who joined William in this ignoble drama, then 
spoke on his knees for a quarter of an hour. The 
embassador from Cologne followed, praying the 
emperor to extend his gracious clemency toward 
the criminal but repentant subject at his feet. 

Charles listened with haughty coldness, com- 
manding a secretary to take note of the speeches. 
At last, however, when he thought the lesson had 
been severe enough, his royal features light- 
ened ; he stretched forth his hand with a smile, 
and raised his repentant vassal, promising his gra- 
cious pardon upon certain conditions. 

Before sunset of that day the conditions were 
signed. One wonders that the craven duke could 
have thought his miserable life worth holding at 
such a price. 

The base blood of the Guelders — his mother's 
race— could alone have reconciled him to such 
infamy. He abjured the faith in which he had 
been brought up, and returned to Rome ; he re- 
nounced his alliance to the king who had given 
5 



68 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

him a princess to wife, with a crown in reversion 
for her dowry ; he ceded the disputed territories 
of Zutphen and Guilderland to the emperor, en- 
gaging never to sign a treaty with any foreign 
power whatever which did not include the House 
of Hapsburg. To crown his ignominy, he agreed 
to join the forces of his duchy to the emperor's ; 
and, as a guarantee of his good faith, the duke gave 
up his two largest fortresses to be garrisoned for 
ten years by Charles. 

When all these considerations were signed, the 
duke received back his duchy, for which he had 
paid the heavy price of his honor. 

There remained now his wife's royal uncle, the 
king of France, to appease. William put the best 
face he could on matters. He wrote at once, by 
advice of the emperor, to excuse his conduct, and 
declared with truth that the delay of France at 
Luxembourg had occasioned the successful in- 
vasion of the duchy. 

He finally demanded that his consort, Jeanne 
d'Albret, should join him at Aix-la-Chapelle, 
the three years during which, according to her 
marriage contract, she was to remain under the 
guardianship of her parents having now nearly 
expired. 

Charles must have plumed himself greatly on 
the advantage which he had gained over his old 
enemy, the king of France, through the pusilla- 
nimity of the duke. 

Jeanne d'Albret had come as far on her dreaded 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 69 

journey as the old city of Soissons. She was rest- 
ing at night to recruit her failing strength, for the 
poor young girl was almost prostrated by the an- 
guish she had undergone. 

Never did more reluctant bride journey to meet 
a more hated spouse. Instead of trying to make 
the best of things, her gloom increased as the end 
drew near, and as she approached the frontier. 

In the middle of that night, at Soissons, the 
princess and her train were suddenly arrested by 
a messenger from the king. 

He had learned while in camp of the ignominy 
with which the duke of Cleves had covered him- 
self. The haughty king, transported with disgust 
and rage, had declared on his royal word that no 
vassal of the emperor's should ever claim the her- 
itage of Navarre. The marriage between the 
duke of Cleves was to be at once dissolved ; and 
Francis sent orders that his niece should join the 
French queen Eleanor at Fontainebleau. 

The pen of the historian would attempt in vain 
to paint the boundless joy which filled the soul of 
Jeanne of Navarre on that midnight at Soissons. 
She was free from the hateful bond which had so 
long chafed and saddened her young life. 

The king of Navarre, fully sharing his daugh- 
ter's joy, hastened to conduct her from the frontier 
to Fontainebleau. 

Queen Marguerite learned with extreme indig- 
nation the ignoble concessions which the duke of 
Cleves had made to the emperor. Her mother's 



yo The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

heart must have rejoiced at her daughter's escape 
at the last hour. 

The woman so brave and high-spirited, except 
where her idolatry for Francis made her yield, 
wrote to the king, " Monseigneur, I would rather 
see my daughter in her grave than know her to be 
in the power of a man who has deceived you, and 
inflicted so foul a blot on his own honor." 

Jeanne's aversion to her suitor now became 
important. It would form the groundwork of 
the petition which the king intended at once to 
present to the pope for the dissolution of the mar- 
riage between his niece and the duke. And this 
was to be the end of all the pomp and pageantry 
of those eight days at Chatellerault ! 

Jeanne's protests against her marriage now be- 
came state documents of immense value. If the 
king of Navarre had inspired their contents, his 
wisdom and foresight were signally proved when 
the documents were forwarded to Rome to show 
that there was good reason for annulling the mar- 
riage. 

Francis now blandly admitted that his niece's 
detestation of the duke might not have been with- 
out reason. Fortunately the latter seconded the 
petition of the French king, sending an envoy to 
Rome in his eagerness. He could not have looked 
forward with much pleasure to his ungracious 
bride ; and the emperor, to indemnify him for the 
loss of Navarre, had promised him, in case his 
marriage was annulled, the hand of.. the arch- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 7 1 

duchess Mary, daughter of Frederic, younger 
brother of Charles V., and king of the Romans. 

On the day when the duke of Cleves knelt in 
the imperial tent at Venloo, he had thrown in his 
lot with the House of Hapsburg. The princess 
had a long, weary waiting before her odious mar- 
riage was annulled. Affairs always moved slowly 
at Rome, and the pope had scruples. She resided 
with her mother while the divorce was pending, 
and entirely recovered favor with the king. 

He appointed his niece godmother to his infant 
grand-daughter, the child of Catharine de Medici 
and the dauphin Henry, whose hand long ago had 
been pledged to Jeanne. The other godmother was 
Eleanor, queen of France, and the christening 
took place at Fontainebleau with all the pomp and 
splendor which accompanied such occurrences at 
the French court. Henry VIII. was godfather, and 
bestowed on the infant, through his embassador, 
that favorite name of his house, Elizabeth. 

In the year 1545 Jeanne left her royal relations 
and proceeded with Madame de Silly to Plessis, 
the home of her childhood. On Easter day high 
mass was chanted in the old castle chapel in the 
presence of the princess, her household, and a 
most illustrious train of prelates and nobles, who 
had come expressly to witness Jeanne's fourth 
and final protest against her compulsory nuptials. 
At the conclusion of the mass, the young girl of 
seventeen came forward and stood in the center 
of the chapel. How fair she must have looked 



72 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

with the soft April light shining through the 
ancient windows and touching with its gold her 
glossy hair, her glowing cheeks. She carried her- 
self at that trying moment with wonderful dig- 
nity and self-possession. That young voice rose 
soft and clear in the dim old chapel amid the 
listening throng. 

The princess told the cardinals, the lords, the 
bishops, of the protest which she had signed be- 
fore her pretended betrothal to the duke of 
Cleves, and how, on the last October at Alencon, 
she had repeated her protest against accepting 
"the said Sieur de Cleves as her husband." 

One of the prelates then handed her an open 
missal, on which she solemnly swore that she had 
spoken the truth. She delivered her documents 
to the cardinal, who forwarded them by courier to 
Rome, together with queen Marguerite's account, 
under oath, of the compulsory betrothal at Chatel- 
lerault. A few weeks later Paul IV. annulled the 
marriage, and permitted the parties to contract 
fresh ones. 

So at last Jeanne d'Albret was free. It seemed 
hard that her young life should have been one 
shadowed by that cruel betrothal which, for State 
reasons, had been forced upon her. 

She must often have felt like saying what queen 
Elizabeth did when she, too, was a princess, and 
held a guarded prisoner in the castle among the 
lonely forests of Woodstock : " O that I were a 
happy milkmaid ! " 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 73 



CHAPTER IV. 

ON the 31st of March, 1547, the king of 
France died at Rambouillet, and this event 
had a great influence upon the fortunes of his 
only niece, now more than nineteen years old. 

The princess, after the fashion of those days, 
joined her father at Mont de Marsan, where they 
held mourning state a month for the deceased 
king. 

The queen of Navarre remained at Tusson 
absorbed in grief. She was now the last of that 
trinity whose devotion had been the wonder of 
Europe. 

The best of Marguerite's life had gone. Al- 
though husband and daughter still remained to 
her, she seems never to have been the same after 
her royal brother yielded up a life which, despite 
many noble and dazzling qualities, had been marred 
by great passions and excesses. Francis was only 
fifty-two at the time of his death, but the race of 
Valois was a short-lived one. 

Great changes took place at court with the 
commencement of the new reign. New person- 
ages came into power; new influences governed 
the court. The house of Navarre must have sen- 
sibly felt the change. The new king could not be 
expected to feel the devotion for his aunt which 



74 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

was, perhaps, the finest trait in his father's charac- 
ter; still, all the children of Francis had been 
brought up to regard Marguerite with veneration, 
and Henry II. always treated her with the utmost 
attention and respect ; but the powerful political 
influence which she had once exerted had now 
passed from her. Marguerite was, however, too 
much absorbed by one grief to mourn any other 
loss. Her affections were always more vital than 
her personal ambitions. 

Her health was greatly shaken. She shunned 
the world where she had acted so prominent and 
noble a part, and largely occupied what remained 
of her life in devotion and charitable deeds. Yet 
she was a woman hardly past her prime, her brow 
was encircled by a crown, she possessed the love 
of two realms, and the adoration of her husband 
and child. Life, it would seem, must still be 
bright and alluring before her ; but her heart was 
in the grave at St. Denis, where France had laid 
the first, and, with all his faults, the best of her 
Valois kings. 

Henry II. was in most of his traits exactly the 
reverse of his father. He inherited, it is true, the 
love of splendor and pageantry which was in the 
Valois blood ; but his disposition was reserved, and 
his cold and abrupt manners formed the largest pos- 
sible contrast to the gracious affability of Francis I. 

The new king lacked the political capacity and 
the literary and artistic gifts of his father. He was 
in heart and brain greatly his inferior. Yet his 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 75 

tachments were permanent. He was slow in yield- 
ing his regard; but, once given, it never altered. 

Henry seems never to have possessed the at- 
tractive qualities which distinguished the children 
of Francis, and his character had never endeared 
him to his father. In person he was tall and hand- 
some, and prided himself on his martial accom- 
plishments and exploits. It is impossible within 
the limits of this history to draw the portraits of 
the principal personages who swayed the French 
court after the accession of Henry II. The life 
there was so unlike the life of to-day, both in its 
splendor and its depravity, that we can hardly con- 
ceive of it. 

Those brave and gallant men, those beautiful 
and gracious women, lived lives whose crime and 
cruelty shock the soul of a finer and better age. 

Beneath that fair and dazzling mask of the court 
raged the fiercest passions of hatred, jealousy, and 
revenge. The most prominent personage was 
now the new queen, Catherine de Medici, the 
Italian wife of Henry II. 

She had been married more than fourteen years 
when she set the lilies of France on her forehead. 
Many of those years had been full of trials and 
bitterness for the young girl who had supplanted 
Jeanne d'Albret. Her father-in-law had alone 
protected her against the hatred of her husband, 
who was so unmanly as to taunt her with what he 
regarded as her plebeian origin, and who was re- 
salved on getting a divorce, and taking a wife 



76 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

more in accordance with his rank. At this trying 
crisis the young, friendless girl behaved with a 
prudence and foresight which at last bore her 
triumphantly through her troubles. She had al- 
ways managed to keep herself in the favor of her 
powerful father-in-law. Francis having made the 
Italian marriage, probably felt himself bound to 
maintain it. 

When her husband was about to desert her, 
Catherine made an appeal to the chivalry and 
honor of the king in the way most likely to 
touch his imperious nature. She flung herself 
sobbing at his feet. She implored him to spare 
her the misery and disgrace of returning to her 
home the repudiated wife of the dauphin. She 
had read the king's character with wonderful in- 
sight. He lifted the prostrate girl, who had 
turned to him in her despair, and whose fate hung 
on his will, and he promised to defend her. He 
kept his word. The dauphin dared not proceed 
with his suit for divorce againsc the express com- 
mands of his father. 

Catherine de Medici had in this instance given 
astonishing evidence of her power of reading hu- 
man character, and using the most unpromising 
circumstances to further her own interests. 

She had now to propitiate a husband who de- 
sired to repudiate her, but even here Catherine 
triumphed. With the improvement of her health, 
delicate for years, her power and her personal 
charms increased. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 77 

A daughter, and then a son, came to gladden her 
heart, and on the death of Francis I. his Floren- 
tine daughter-in-law sat a crowned queen in the 
halls of the Louvre, on the throne of the Valois. 
She, at least, had reason to bless the honor and 
chivalry of Francis I. 

Nobody seems at this time to have suspected 
the insight and facility of resource which Catherine 
possessed. She pursued all her designs in the 
dark, silent and noiseless as fate. She was prob- 
ably a general favorite, for it was her policy never, 
if possible, to give offense to any body, not even to 
the stately and beautiful Duchess de Poitiers, who 
shared the affections of her husband. 

If Catherine was not strictly beautiful, she knew 
how to make the most of the personal charms 
which she possessed. She had a dazzling com- 
plexion, a figure that glided with marvelous grace 
through the halls of the Louvre, while her smile 
and courteous greetings attracted all who ap- 
proached her. 

She had, too, a wonderful command over her 
features. When she was strongly moved, the 
flashing of her dark, prominent eyes alone be- 
trayed the feelings which she repressed ; but be- 
neath that calm, smiling exterior was a nature 
resolute, crafty, unscrupulous, and vindictive, in- 
tent only on pursuing its own schemes of aggran 
dizement, and time was to prove it capable of the 
blackest treachery and of the foulest cruelty. 

No doubt the trials of Catherine's youth, while 



7 8 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

they had quickened her marvelous resource and 
penetration, had also developed the worst qualities 
of her nature ; but before her long, eventful career 
of seventy-four years was over, Catherine de Me- 
dici was to prove that there was no deed too 
vile, no cruelty too dreadful, for her ambition or 
vengeance ; and, despite her great talents, she was 
yet to be the scourge of France, the ruin of the 
race of Valois. 

No two could be more utterly unlike in char- 
acter than the wife and the cousin of Henry II. : 
the one plausible, crafty, scheming; the other 
honest, magnanimous, plain-spoken to a fault, and 
incapable of subterfuge or deceit. 

Yet fate had unhappily brought the lives of 
these women into the closest relations, and they 
were doomed constantly to traverse each other. 
All their interests, tastes, sympathies, were to be 
perpetually opposed, and the long contest was to 
end only with the death of one of them. 

The princess of Navarre was allowed to remain 
unmolested in Beam for the first few months of 
the new reign. The failing health of her mother 
secured this brief tranquillity to the daughter. 
But the heiress of a kingdom soon had numerous 
suitors for her hand, and among these was the 
son of her father's ancient enemy, Philip of Spain. 

It is a curious fact, which, so far as I am aware, 
no historian has observed, that the hand of the 
Catholic sovereign was offered to two women, the 
greatest and noblest of their time. Each was 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 79 

a Protestant, each rejected his suit, and each 
found him in after life her most implacable foe, 
while his long cherished designs against the life 
and kingdom of each were in the end utterly- 
frustrated. 

Philip's Portuguese wife had died about a year 
after their marriage, leaving him with a son who 
grew up to be a curse to himself and his race. 

The emperor was eagerly desirous to obtain the 
hand of the princess for his son. Whether — for 
he was getting old in feeling if not in years — he 
had some twinges of conscience over the heritage 
so unrighteously wrested from Jeanne d'Albret's 
ancestors, or whether, as is far more likely, he 
wanted to secure what remained of Navarre on 
the French side of the Pyrenees, it is certain that 
the great emperor was thoroughly in earnest to 
obtain the princess of the small mountain-kingdom 
for his daughter-in-law. 

He praised her in the strongest terms to his 
son, as " a princess in vigorous health, of esti- 
mable character, virtuous, and of heart worthy of 
her birth." 

When the emperor wrote these words, it is likely 
that he was thinking of Jeanne's mother, of that 
memorable journey into Spain, and his first in- 
terview in Madrid with the beautiful, high-souled 
sister of Francis I. 

The king of Navarre would gladly have ac- 
cepted these overtures ; but the French court was 
on the alert, and before the negotiations could be 



80 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

fairly commenced, it interfered again. The hand 
of Jeanne d'Albret carried with it the crown of 
Navarre, and must not go to swell the titles and 
power of the ancient enemies of France, the House 
of Hapsburg. 

Neither is it probable that Marguerite shared 
her husband's ambition in this matter. The 
thought that her daughter should wear the crown 
of Spain in that Madrid where she had suffered 
the crudest sorrows, the bitterest humiliations of 
her life, awoke no glow of pride or pleasure in the 
soul of Marguerite d'Angouleme. Those old days 
stood always pale specters between her and the 
emperor Charles V. Could these ghosts have 
been laid, the fact of his implacable enmity to the 
Protestants would have made Marguerite averse 
to the union despite its grandeur. 

When it came to Jeanne's father the case was 
greatly altered. He had never manifested his 
wife's zeal for the Reformed religion, and regard 
for his dead brother-in-law could not have exer- 
cised a controlling influence over him. The al- 
legiance of the house of Albret to France had 
despoiled it of the fairest portion of its domin- 
ions — an allegiance poorly repaid — and the mar- 
riage of Jeanne with the Spanish prince would 
restore to the heiress of Navarre the scepter of 
her fathers. 

It must have cost Henry a struggle to relinquish 
for his daughter the most splendid alliance in the 
world. But the old dread of seeing a French 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 8 1 

arm}' on his frontiers, the difficulty of prompt 
negotiations, and probably his wife's influence, 
at last decided him to adhere to the traditional 
policy of his house. When a mandate from 
Henry II. summoned his cousin to Fontaine- 
bleau, her father accompanied her. She had 
now reached her twentieth year. Her face was 
full of expression and animation. It was the fair, 
open mirror of her generous, noble young soul. 
The dark, magnificent eyes looked one in the face 
with no craft in their depths. Her bearing had 
the majesty which became a princess ; her bright 
spirits and sparkling wit made her a favorite with 
the courtiers, but she never won the good-will of 
the queen. 

The polished phrases with which her cousin's 
wife addressed her had some false ring to Jeanne's 
ear; and, unable always to conceal her feelings 
she often made abrupt and ungracious replies. 

It was a fault of Jeanne d'Albret to do this 
through life ; but it was long before she sus- 
pected the dislike with which she had inspired 
the queen. 

Henry II., like his father, placed his stern veto 
on the marriage of his cousin with the prince of 
Spain. And then two of his highest courtiers 
eagerly sought her hand. These were Antoine, 
duke of Vendome, and Franzois, duke of Guise. 

The mother of Antoine was Francoise, sister of 
the duke d'Alencon, first husband of the queen of 
Navarre. A strong attachment hadafways existed 



82 The Protestant Queen of Navarre y 

between Marguerite and her sister-in-law, and this, 
no doubt, gave Antoine some advantages over all 
. other suitors. 

He had the external qualities most likely to 
attract the fancy of a young girl. His presence 
was noble, his manners regarded as a model of 
elegance by the courtiers of Henry II., while his 
address was most captivating in its frankness and 
good-humor. 

But true steadiness and manliness were want- 
ing under all this captivating exterior. Despite 
the force and passion of his feelings when aroused, 
there was no depending on their stability. He 
was easily influenced for good or evil, and be- 
came the victim of those who were shrewder and 
more unscrupulous than himself. As a soldier 
he was brave, and had fairly earned his laurels in 
the several campaigns in which he had served 
the king; but he was too luxurious, too fond of 
pleasure, pomp, and display, to enjoy for any long 
period the hardships of tent and field. 

Antoine's high rank, however, made him a per- 
son of great importance at court. He was the 
first prince of the blood of the royal family, and 
Henry II. had offered to give him the hand of 
Marguerite, the youngest sister of the king. But 
the daughter of Francis I. had coldly declined 
the offer. "She could never marry," she said, "a 
subject of her brother." 

The wit, the animation, the joyous spirits of 
Jeanne d'Albret at once captivated the heart of 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 83 

the handsome, susceptible duke, who was' now 
about thirty years old. Her fearless independence 
and her outspoken honesty were something fresh 
and attractive to a prince sated with the flattery 
he received on every side. 

In this instance the penetration of Jeanne d'Al- 
bret seemed to have failed her. The child's in- 
stinct, which had probed through all fair disguises 
to the ignoble soul of William of Cleves, failed to 
discern the real character of the prince who now 
offered her his hand. History and all human 
life, too, are full of similar strange and inexplica- 
ble attractions. Jeanne d'Albret's mind was of a 
strong, serious cast. She worshiped truth. Her 
intellect, powerful and daring, resembled that of 
her famous grandmother, Louise of Savoy, although 
in her moral nature Jeanne was infinitely supe- 
rior to her ancestress. 

Antoine of Bourbon, with his grace, his fine tact, 
his courtly devotion, pleased the fancy and gained 
the heart of the princess. 

In all the qualities which make a drawing-room 
courtier, Antoine seems to have resembled his 
contemporary, Leicester, the English earl, who 
gained and held through his life a place in the 
affections of Elizabeth Tudor which no other man 
ever did. 

Henry II., however, threw his influence into the 

scale of his favorite, Antoine's rival, the duke of 

Guise. He was in many respects the greatest of 

his six brothers, who made the glory of the house of 
6 



84 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Lorraine. There was no comparison between the 
intellectual capacity of the rivals. Guise seems 
to have united in himself all the gifts of his great 
race — the high courage, the command of his temper, 
the capacity for affairs, the insight and force which 
fitted him to be a leader among men. 

His brilliant qualities, his liberality, his polished 
affability, made him the darling of the populace. 
He was the generous patron of learning and art, 
and so powerful was the charm of his manner that 
even the haughty, reserved king yielded to its fas- 
cination, and made an intimate companion, almost 
an equal, of Guise in their talks and recreations. 

One alloy, however, debased all these brilliant 
qualities. The duke had the hard, selfish, soaring 
ambition of his race. To this there were no 
bounds. The whole race were born to command, 
and their ambition always secretly pointed to 
crown and throne. 

Mary of Lorraine, Guise's sister, had married 
the king of Scotland, and her young daughter 
Mary was now the betrothed wife of the dauphin, 
Francis II., and receiving her education with the 
royal princes at St. Germain. 

The king did all in his power to forward the 
suit of his favorite, but his cousin, daughter also 
of a king, regarded it as great presumption in the 
duke to seek her hand ; that hand which had been 
twice refused to the prince of Spain ! 

The queen of Navarre encouraged her daugh- 
ter's rejection of Guise. If his sister had married 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 85 

the king of Scotland, his brother, the duke d'Au- 
male had taken to wife the daughter of Diana de 
Poitiers, the king's mistress. 

" What, monsigneur ! would you permit that the 
duchess d'Aumale should become my sister-in- 
law, and acquire the right to walk by my side ? " 
said Jeanne to her royal cousin when he was one 
day urging the suit of his favorite. 

Probably no other woman in his realm but his 
brave young cousin would have dared make that 
speech to Henry II., for the influence of the beau- 
tiful and stately Diana de Poitiers was supreme at 
court. Even Catharine de Medici had to bend 
to it. But Jeanne d'Albret from her childhood 
had spoken her mind fearlessly to kings. 

After this speech Henry II. gave up urging the 
suit of his favorite, and in order to defeat the 
schemes of the prince of Spain, threw the weight 
of his influence on the side of Antoine. But 
Henry d'Albret did not favor the new suitor. It 
is likely he hoped yet to see Philip his son-in-law. 
The king of France suspected this, and sent per- 
emptory orders for the king and queen of Na- 
varre to present themselves at court, where they 
could confer on their daughter's marriage, and 
have it celebrated as soon as possible. 

The absolute command of Henry II., as his 
father's had done in the case of the duke of Cleves, 
made it necessary for the king of'Navarre to submit. 

As for Marguerite, the duke's well-known lean- 
ings toward the Reformed religion strongly prepos- 



86 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

sessed her in his favor, and she cordially con- 
sented to receive him as her son-in-law. When 
the king and queen of Navarre made their State 
entry into Lyons, Marguerite and her daughter 
sat in a litter which was draped in black, and 
which followed next to the one occupied by Cath- 
arine and the princess Marguerite. 

The duke of Vendome rode by the side of the 
litter of the queen of Navarre, and the attention 
which he received from her on that occasion was 
regarded as a public approval of his suit. 

That State pageant was the last, however, in 
which Marguerite d'Angouleme ever took part. 
The new reign had opened, but it found her sad 
and listless. The one which had passed away had 
been all the world to her. 

The king of Navarre tried to make the best of 
his new son-in-law. With the exception of Mar- 
guerite, to whom he was fondly attached, Henry's 
relations with the royal house of Valois do not 
seem to have brought him much happiness. This 
imperious brother-in-law had always fatally over- 
shadowed him. The proud, resolute Henry chafed 
under the bondage in which he, a sovereign king, 
was held ; and it must have galled him to remem- 
ber that, had it not been for the opposition of two 
kings of France, his daughter might have sat on 
the throne of Spain, and worn the crown of her 
ancestors of Navarre. But it was the fate of the 
house of Albret. They had always to see them- 
selves sacrificed to the grandeur of-the Valois, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 87 

Henry tried to act the part of a father now that 
his daughter's fate was sealed. He seems to have 
read, clearer than any body else, the real charac- 
ter of this son of the Bourbons, whose handsome 
presence and gallant bearing had won the heart of 
Jeanne d'Albret. 

Several days before he signed the marriage con- 
tract the king of Navarre sent for the duke, and 
seriously admonished him on his luxurious, dissi- 
pated, and frivolous habits. The haughty An- 
toine listened meekly to his stern father-in- 
law. At the time he probably felt a genuine 
remorse, and he made the best of promises, say- 
ing that the hand of the princess of Navarre 
was so priceless a boon that it would render 
him ever afterward indifferent to all pleasures and 
dissipation. 

The marriage contract between Jeanne d'Albret 
and Antoine de Bourbon was signed at Moulins, 
October 20, 1548, in the presence of the king and 
queen of France, the bride's parents, and a number 
of noble personages. 

The king and queen of Navarre gave their 
daughter a splendid dowry, but Henry, still dis- 
trustful of Antoine's profuse habits, stipulated that 
Jeanne was to have sole and separate use of a por- 
tion of her dowry. 

The duke settled lands, gold, and splendid jewels 
on the wife who was to bring a crown to his house, 
Catharine de Medici listened with her usual calm 
to the marriage articles, which were afterward 



88 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

to concern her and her race so deeply ; and the 
queen of Navarre, now a failing invalid, as though 
some warning whisper stole out of the future 
years, insisted that a clause should be inserted in 
the marriage articles giving her daughter the ab- 
solute control and nurture of her children, and 
stipulating that, if she bore a son, he was to remain 
under his mother's sole government until he was 
eighteen years old. 

The following day, in the chapel of the cas- 
tle of Moulins, that marriage took place which 
brought a crown to the house of Bourbon, and 
which was to set the sons of that house on the 
throne of France. 

The bridegroom had given a notable proof of 
his wavering nature the very day preceding the 
bridal, when he was seized with scruples regarding 
the validity of the princess's divorce from the 
duke of Cleves. 

His lamentation and jealous fury drove him into 
a perfect frenzy, which the queen of Navarre had 
the greatest difficulty in soothing. At length her 
solemn representations, united to those of her 
ladies, convinced Antoine, who, in his frantic ex- 
citement, was on the point of taking flight from 
Moulins. 

This unhappy circumstance must have clouded 
the bridal, and given the king and queen of Na- 
varre painful doubts of the man on whom they 
were bestowing their daughter. 

But the bridal procession issued forth in royal 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 89 

pomp from the portals of the castle, and again the 
king of France gave away the bride, although 
there was none of the gorgeous splendor of 
those days at Chatellerault at this second mar- 
riage. 

Jeanne d'Albret had had enough of such pa- 
geantries on that miserable occasion ; but although 
she was now a loving, happy bride, although un- 
dreamed-of grandeur, with a long line of French 
kings, were to come of this marriage, yet it was a 
sad day for Jeanne d'Albret when she gave her 
hand to the first prince of the blood, the proud 
heir of the. Bourbons. 

On his return from Moulins, Henry II. be- 
stowed Anne d'Este, his own and only cousin on 
his mother's side, as Jeanne was on his father's, 
upon his magnificent favorite, the duke of Guise. 
He did this to compensate Francis for the uncere- 
monious rejection which he had received from the 
princess of Navarre. 

It was a splendid alliance for the ambitious 
Guise ; but of these marriages of Henry's fair 
young cousins, one was to work the ruin of his 
name and race ; the other was to set his sons on 
the throne, and place on their brows the crowns of 
the Valois. 

When the joyous marriage ceremonies were over 
at Moulins, and Jeanne had made a bridal prog- 
ress in her husband's dominions, the two journeyed 
to Pau, that the young duchess might receive the 
homage of the States of Beam. 



90 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Antoine always made a grand figure in State 
pageants, and the delight and reverence with 
which his young consort was received by her sub- 
jects immensely flattered his vanity. 

He played his part excellently well — all the 
better because Antoine was probably sincere at 
the time. He was always affected by the surfaces 
of things, and took the color of opinions about 
him. He devoted himself to Queen Marguerite 
and the Reformed ministry, while Jeanne, far too 
sincere to affect any preferences which she did 
not feel, continued her favor to the Catholics. 

She had been educated in their religion, and 
although her residence with her mother at Beam 
had shaken her opinions, she had not made up her 
mind to forsake the religion of her youth. 

When she did this it would be absolutely for 
conscience', and not for interest's, sake. But An- 
toine had his immediate reward. The States 
joined his name to his wife's in the important 
document which recognized her as the successor 
of the king and queen of Navarre. 

The emperor, as soon as he learned of the mar- 
riage and recognition, took measures for prompt- 
ly securing his own interests. He summoned a 
Cortes at Pamplona, in that Spanish Navarre 
which his grandfather had wrested from Jeanne's 
grandmother, and caused his son to be proclaimed 
king of Navarre by right of the ancient conquest. 
In his wrath he even menaced the frontier of 
Beam. The king of Navarre assembled an army, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 91 

and was about to commence hostilities, when the 
death of his queen put an end to them. The 
loveliest and most accomplished woman in France 
died at the castle of Odos, in Bigorre, December 
21, 1548. 

The mother of the French Reformation, the 
protector of the oppressed and hunted Lutherans, 
stands alone in the gay luxurious court of her 
brother its fairest ornament, its sole representative 
of all that is sweetest and noblest in womanhood. 

The tender loyal heart seems to have slowly 
broken after her brother's death. Marguerite had 
said, long ago, that the greatest sorrow which she 
could conceive befalling her would be to outlive 
her brother. 

Whatever his faults were, the love and ideality 
of Marguerite surrounded Francis I. with a halo. 
Proud as she was of her brave and gallant hus- 
band, she never found in him that imagination, 
those fine intellectual and artistic sympathies, 
which made the closeness of the bond between 
the son and daughter of Louise of Savoy. 

Henry of Navarre was overwhelmed with grief 
by the loss of his wife. His high courage, the 
energy and daring which, in his youth, had sur- 
mounted every obstacle, and urged him to that 
wonderful midnight flight from the castle of Pavia, 
languished after the queen's death, and he only 
made faint attempts to counteract the hostile de- 
signs of the emperor. 

The duchess of Vendome lost her most power- 



92 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

ful friend when her mother died. Marguerite 
alone possessed influence over her son-in-law. 
Her gentle firmness, the prestige of her great name, 
imposed respect on his unstable mind. 

He was attached to his wife, and prized her high 
abilities, and gloried in the homage which she 
commanded on every side ; but he had little sym- 
pathy with the intellectual tastes which she in- 
herited from her mother. 

Indeed, it was impossible for a nature which 
delighted in externals, in pomp, luxury, pleasure — 
a nature at once passionate, vacillating, and unscru- 
pulous — to comprehend the lofty, conscientious, 
and noble character of Jeanne d'Albret. Antoine 
feasted with his boon companions, while his wife 
devoted herself to the study of theology, history, 
philosophy — subjects certain to attract a mind of 
a thoughtful, earnest cast like her own. 

The first child of the duke and duchess de 
Vendome was born nearly two years after their 
marriage. He was confided to the care of 
Madame de Silly, the faithful friend and governess 
of Jeanne d'Albret's youth. 

This was a great mistake, for years of failing 
health had weakened Madame de Silly's energies. 
She was susceptible to the least change of tem- 
perature, and insisted that the infant confided to 
her care should be kept in an apartment hung 
with arras, in a stifling atmosphere from which 
every breath of fresh air was carefully excluded. 

The child drooped, but remonstrances had no 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 93 

effect on the querulous invalid who had charge of 
him. He gradually wasted away, and when his 
mother, at last acquainted with the condition of 
her child, hastened to him, she was overwhelmed 
at the sight of his pitiable condition, and bitterly 
reproached her old friend. 

The duchess carried the prince at once to Nor- 
mandy; but the little life had been slowly stifled 
in the close apartments where he had been so long 
confined, and he died when he was about a year 
and a half old. 

The blunt, passionate king of Navarre was 
greatly enraged at this slow murder of the heir 
of his dominions. The emperor now made a final 
effort to come to a peaceful settlement of the 
long vexed question of the conquest, and pro- 
posed to give Henry d'Albret the hand of Juana, 
his youngest daughter, now the widow of the king 
of Portugal. 

But the prospect of a. daughter of the House of 
Hapsburg in the place of his beloved Marguerite 
hardly attracted Henry, and the birth of a second 
grandson filled him with pride and delight. He 
gazed on the fine boy with immense satisfaction, 
and was never weary of caressing him. 

The duchess, taught by experience, insisted 
that the child should be brought up under her 
superintendence, and the vigorous growth of the 
infant amply justified her decision. 

But one day the duke and duchess accompanied 
the king on a grand hunting expedition, the child 



94 T/ie Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

being left in the charge of the nurse and the 
chamberlain appointed to attend on him. 

The nurse, during the afternoon, carried her 
precious charge to an open window, where she 
was joined by one of King Henry's gentlemen, 
who besought permission to take the child, which 
was granted. The two were in a merry mood, 
laughing and jesting, and passing the child several 
times to and fro. 

A staircase under the open window led to the 
lower apartments of the castle. The young prince, 
in the midst of the dangerous pastime, fell from 
the grasp of his nurse, who supposed that the 
nobleman had firm hold of him. One of the 
child's ribs was fractured on the marble steps. 

Appalled at the result of their carelessness, the 
pair agreed to conceal the accident. The nurse 
found means to hush the infant's agonized cries. 
He drooped for three or four days, but his ill- 
ness was attributed to every cause but the right 
one. 

This was only discovered after his death, and 
the authors of it were then brought to condign 
punishment. 

Great was the wrath of the king of Navarre, 
and his stormiest reproaches were aimed at the 
unhappy mother, whom he actually accused of 
causing the death of her two promising sons. 

Henry positively affirmed his intention of mar- 
rying again, and his daughter could only partially 
pacify the irate king by solemnly agreeing that he 




" This is mine," he said, taking the infant in his arms. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 97 

should have the management of any heirs she 
might yet bring to the throne of Navarre. 

Jeanne felt aggrieved at her father's reproaches, 
which she considered unmerited, and the two, so 
fondly attached, parted coldly, the duke and 
duchess taking up their abode in the mag- 
nificent dower palace of his mother, Francoise 
d'Alencon. 

Antoine joined the king's forces at Picardy, and 
his wife passed, much of her time in the beautiful 
garden of the castle, in which she could enjoy to 
the full her great fondness for flowers. 

As she wandered in those peaceful, sunny days, 
amid all the lovely bloom and fragrance of that 
ancient garden, did any shadow of the dark, 
stormy days soon to open before her, fall in cold 
gloom upon her soul ? If it did, her brave, high 
heart never quailed, for she joined her husband at 
the camp of Picardy, and courageously shared 
with him all its discomforts. 

In the depth of the winter she returned to 
Beam, and there, on the 13th of December, 1553, 
her third son was born, the future hero of Cou- 
tras and d'Arques, Henry IV., of illustrious mem- 
ory, the greatest sovereign of France, the first and 
best of that bad old line of Bourbons. 

The brave Bearnois king was transported with 
joy at the sight of his third grandson. " This is 
mine," he said, taking the infant in his arms, and 
after an ancient fashion of the Bearnoise, he 
touched the lips of the small heir of Navarre with 



98 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

garlic, and put wine to them in a golden cup. 
The babe actually lifted its head and swallowed 
a few drops. " Verily, thou art a true Bearnois," 
cried the enraptured king. 

Then he passed into the antechamber crowded 
with courtiers, who had assembled to offer their 
congratulations. He held the babe aloft that all 
might gaze on him. The loud " vivas " rent the 
air ; but in that proud hour Henry's fondest hopes 
could never have scaled the heights of glory and 
grandeur which awaited the grandson who bore 
his name. 

The king had had enough of care and coddling 
in the case of his elder grandsons, and he gave 
this one into the charge of a healthy peasant 
woman, who carried off the young prince to her 
poor hut to rear with her own child. 

An epidemic raged in the principality, and the 
woman fell sick, as did eight successive nurses 
who had charge of the royal infant. 

But the boy nourished, and was, at last, con- 
fided to the care of a laborer's wife, whose cot- 
tage was situated near the river Gave. 

The park of the royal castle of Pau extended 
along the banks of this river, so that his mother 
could easily visit her son in private. 

The cottage where the infancy of Henry IV. 
was passed was still standing in the early part of 
this century. 

It was a poor little building surrounded by mud 
walls ; but the ancient arms of France were em- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 99 

blazoned over the doorway, with the words Sauve- 
gicarde die Roy. 

When he was christened, the two Henrys, kings 
of France and Navarre, were his godfathers ; and 
his proud grandfather bore him to the font in a 
tortoise-shell, which is still preserved at Pau, and 
called the cradle of Henry IV. 

When her babe was two or three months old, 
his mother joined her husband in France ; and 
the heir of Navarre was left in the cottage on the 
banks of the Gave. In that simple life, under 
that hard, rough training, he grew up vigorous and 
robust. 

He was fed on the black bread of the peasants ; 
the little naked feet of the brave, joyous boy were 
sent out to wander day after day among the rough 
mountain roads of Beam. He was inured to 
every hardship ; he was taught to laugh to scorn 
every danger; and he loved the wild, hard life, 
the great solemn hills amid which his young life 
opened. He had inherited his grandfather's spirit. 

The sight of the boy seems to have rekindled 
the old ambitions in Henry's soul. He was rais- 
ing an army to make a last effort for the recovery 
of his lost kingdom of Spanish Navarre, when 
he suddenly fell a victim to the epidemic which 
raged in portions of his dominions. The gallant 
old Bearnoise died without realizing the fondest 
hope of his life. He never won back from Spain 
that fair heritage so cruelly torn from him in his 
childhood. 



100 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Jeanne d'Albret was Queen of Navarre ! 
When they greeted her with the royal title it 
brought her little joy ; she could only mourn in 
bitter grief for her father. Her best friend, her 
last prop, had fallen. She did not know the cruel 
wrongs, the fiery trials in store for her ; but she 
could not fail by this time to have discovered 
something of the real nature of the husband whom 
she tenderly loved. 

She was a young woman, still in her twenties, 
when the crown and scepter descended to her. 
I think of her with a great pity as she stands 
there in her youth and loneliness in the middle 
of the fifteenth century. Who can think of her 
otherwise ? She. was the bravest, noblest woman 
whom the sun of that century shone on. 

In that very May, too, while the hedge-roses 
were blossoming, and the larks' songs filling the 
blue English air with gladness, another young 
woman was waiting for her crown — waiting, but 
with a sword hanging day after day over her head. 

The English girl was five years the junior of 
Jeanne d'Albret, and the hand so steadily urged 
on the French princess was, in a little while, to be 
vainly offered to Elizabeth Tudor. 

The same glorious part in the Protestant Ref- 
ormation awaited both, and the same revenge and 
implacable hatred was to pursue through a long 
life both the French and the English queens. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 101 



CHAPTER V. 

THE queen of Navarre was at Baran when she 
learned of her father's death, and of the 
change in her title and fortunes which his de- 
cease involved. 

She at once sent for her husband to join her, 
and commanded the messengers to salute him king 
of Navarre. 

The duke's vanity was immensely flattered by 
this title. The pomp and appendages of royalty 
were delightful to Antoine Bourbon. His char- 
acter here, as in all other respects, presented the 
sharpest contrast to his wife's, who was absorbed 
in grief, and in a sense of the new cares and re- 
sponsibilities which her sovereignty now devolved 
on her. 

The duke joined his wife at Baran, but he had 
been with her only a few days when a command 
from the French king summoned Antoine to 
court. Jeanne had been dreading this summons, 
and her fears pointed to the truth. 

Henry II. had been persuaded that the time 
had now come to strike for the kingdom of French 
Navarre. With that insatiable greed which never 
took account of the rights of another, he was 
hungry to add his cousin's narrow slice of ter- 
ritory, under the shadow of the Pyrenees, to his 



102 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

own vast dominions. He deeply regretted that 
his fears of the prince of Spain had induced 
him to bestow the hand of his cousin on the 
duke of Vendome, as the large possessions of 
the two seemed to menace the royal power in 
the North of France ; while the lands of Beam, 
lying on the Spanish frontier, rendered their sov- 
ereign dangerously independent of the French 
court. 

Henry understood the weak, pompous nature 
with which he had to deal. He lavished favors 
and promises on the duke when the latter ar- 
rived at Germain. For Beam and its outly- 
ing domains, the duke was offered territories of 
equal extent in the heart of France. 

It was shrewdly assumed that he was a sound 
Catholic, while his wife's heresy was condemned in 
very strong terms. 

The son of Francis I. did not hesitate to attack 
the name held so sacred by his father. Queen 
Marguerite, Henry insisted, had sown her heresy 
so broadcast throughout her realm that nothing 
but the sword could restore the ancient faith. 
Antoine listened favorably to Henry's proposals. 
Probably he would have closed with them had it 
not been for the thought of his high-spirited wife. 
Without her consent he could not alienate her 
heritage. The crown he so ostentatiously pa- 
raded at the French court he wore only by her 
sufferance. 

All these facts he represented to Henry, and 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 103 

begged that he might first confer with the queen 
on the subject. 

The suspicious king was not gratified by this 
reply; but Jeanne's consent to the transfer of her 
dominions was manifestly so necessary, that An- 
toine's request could not be denied. 

We cannot follow through all its windings the 
long, dark story of intrigue and injustice to despoil 
a helpless woman of her crown and realm. Her 
indignation at this base plot to rob her of her 
father's territories, inspired Jeanne with a courage 
and wisdom which at last defeated the plots of her 
enemies, and proved the marvelous penetration 
and sagacity for affairs which Jeanne had inher- 
ited from her grandmother. 

Yet it was necessary to carry out her measures 
with the greatest circumspection, for the crafty 
Henry, aided by the highest political talent in his 
court, had laid his plans to despoil her. It re- 
mained to be seen whether a helpless woman could 
outwit the king and his learned counselors. 

Jeanne became acquainted with the whole de- 
tails of the iniquitous scheme when her husband 
joined her with royal orders that she should at 
once repair to St. Germain. 

It was high time to act. The queen of Na- 
varre's first movement was to enter into secret 
communication with her trusty Baron d'Arros. 
Devotion to the house of Albret was in the blood 
of his race. He was the son of that chamberlain 
whose affection had enabled her father to make 



104 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

his memorable escape from Pavia. She confided 
the intention of the French court to the baron, 
and placed him in command of the levies still at 
Hagetmau, which Henry d'Albret had raised for 
the invasion of Spanish Navarre. After this was 
done she announced her intention of proceeding 
to St. Germain. 

Once in that atmosphere charged so thickly 
with dangerous plots, the young queen demeaned 
herself with admirable judgment and self-com- 
mand. 

When Henry met his cousin, now an independ- 
ent sovereign, he said to her significantly, " My 
cousin, there must be but one king in France." 

Jeanne listened calmly, and replied submis- 
sively to this speech, which was, in reality, a 
covert threat. She even agreed, if the States 
of Beam would consent to the transfer, to make 
no opposition ; but she represented in such strong 
terms their loyalty to their ancient kings, and the 
expediency of her proceeding thither to absolve 
them from their allegiance, that Henry, against 
his will, was compelled to admit the force of this 
reasoning, and, reassured by his cousin's manner, 
he gave the. royal pair permission to depart for 
Pau. 

French intrigue was already at work there, and 
secret attempts had been made to gain over 
d'Arros, Jeanne's loyal officer, to the side of the 
king of France. 

By feigning acquiescence in the treasonable 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 105 

league he had gained a knowledge of its extent, 
and hastened to frustrate it by marching imme- 
diately to Pau, and proclaiming every-where the 
designs of the French to depose their legitimate 
sovereign. 

The hot southern temper was at once roused 
to fury. In the midst of the wild tumult which 
d'Arros's tidings had created, the royal pair en- 
tered Pau, to whose castle their son had been 
brought to meet his parents, Antoine having never 
yet beheld his heir. 

Could the proud father have seen, as he gazed 
on that beautiful, promising child, to what great- 
ness this boy was destined, nurtured among the 
wild Pyrenees, whose cradle-song had been the 
mountain winds and the peasant woman's lullaby, 
his heart would have beat with a still loftier 
pride. 

The mother clasped her child to her heart, and, 
amid her tears of joy, solemnly declared that 
nothing should compel her to betray one of his 
rights. She kept her word. 

The enthusiastic love and homage of her people 
gladdened and sustained the heart of the young 
queen. Whenever she went abroad crowds sur- 
rounded her, waiting for a glance from their sover- 
eign. The knowledge that the French were making 
ready to swoop down on the ancient kingdom of 
Navarre awoke all the old patriotic loyalty of the 
Bearnoise. 

Antoine of Bourbon shared his wife's popularity. 



1 06 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

His open patronage of the Reformed worship en- 
deared him to the Protestants, who constituted so 
large a portion of Jeanne's subjects ; and he made 
a parade of attending the Lutheran services while 
his wife was present at mass. 

When the new sovereigns took possession of 
their royal abode, the castle of Pau, they entered 
a splendid home, embellished with the choicest 
works of art. 

Here the exquisite tastes of Marguerite d'An- 
gouleme had had full liberty to indulge them- 
selves. The presence-chamber glowed with the 
hangings of crimson satin, embroidered by her 
fair hands, and represented a passage from the 
queen's own life. At the four corners blazed 
the golden ciphers and arms of Henry and Mar- 
guerite. 

The picture-gallery was rich with a large collec- 
tion of portraits and landscapes; the jewel cham- 
ber was stored with precious treasures. It seems 
again like some old tale of Eastern romance to 
read of the cups of agate and crystal studded with 
gems ; of mirrors set in frames that flashed with 
diamonds ; of gold plate in quaint designs ; while 
rubies, turquoises, pearls, and emeralds, sparkle 
along the page. 

It was a noble inheritance which had fallen to 
the last daughter of the line of Navarre, and it 
was a tempting prize to the greedy hands reached 
out to despoil her. 

The commissioners sent by the French king to 



the Mother of the Bourdons. 107 

receive Jeanne's renunciation of her crown were 
amazed and alarmed at the temper of the people, 
and trembled for their own safety in this adverse 
state of affairs. They entreated a final answer 
from the queen, and a safe-conduct to the front- 
iers of Beam. Jeanne graciously accorded both 
requests. She behaved with greater independence 
at this time because she knew that the French 
king's relations with other European powers were 
on an uncertain footing, and that he consequently 
would not dare to invade her dominions; but her 
reply to his unjust demand was wise and temper- 
ate. She threw the responsibility on her people, 
and said that the very suggestion of transferring 
Beam to the crown of France had transported 
them with a fury wholly beyond her power to con- 
trol. They had risen tumultuously in defense of 
their ancient rights ; and she therefore begged the 
king to desist from his purpose, and hold her 
absolved from a promise which she found it im- 
possible to perform. 

Henry II. was highly incensed at the failure of 
his plot, but he had to content himself with an 
angry and sarcastic rejoinder. Jeanne had con- 
ducted this whole affair with the most consum- 
mate prudence and wisdom. She had saved her 
realm. The young queen had proved on her 
accession that sagacity and firmness which were 
to place her in the front rank of the great his- 
torical women of the world. She had shown her- 
self equal in capacity to the veteran diplomats 



108 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

of France, and frustrated all their nicely laid 
schemes. 

Henry, of course, always owed her a grudge, but 
he had had a lesson which he never forgot, and 
thereafter he made no attempt to annex his cousin's 
dominions to his own. 

The coronation of the king and queen of Na- 
varre took place in the great hall of the castle of 
Pau. The splendid ceremonials which lingered 
in the traditions of the ancient coronations in the 
great cathedral of Pamplona had to be dispensed 
with. The Spaniard had wrested from Jeanne 
the fairest portions of the kingdom of her fathers. 
She must have thought at that solemn hour, with 
unspeakable pain and indignation, of the wrongs 
done to her and her son. 

No royal pageant defiled, as of old, through 
the ancient city, but the chief nobles, gentlemen, 
and officers, assembled in the castle hall. At the 
upper end the chairs of state were placed under 
the dais. 

When Antoine and Jeanne entered and took 
their seats the air rung with shouts. The oaths 
were administered, and the queen solemnly en- 
gaged to observe the ancient laws, charters, and 
privileges. Her husband afterward took the same 
oaths, and the two were then proclaimed joint 
sovereigns of Navarre and Beam. 

In writing the history of Jeanne d'Albret it 
seems necessary to give some account of those 
great events and personages who most powerfully 



the Mother of the Bourbons. iog 

influenced her destinies ; yet these require a volume 
in themselves. Her history is the history of her 
era. 

At the time of her accession all Europe was in 
a state of unrest. New thoughts, ideas, and con- 
victions, were shaking the souls of men. The 
new religion, with its purer life, its simpler forms, 
its larger liberty, had awakened the conscience and 
appealed to the heart. 

But the old medieval despotisms set down 
their iron heel on the thought and life whose 
growth must be their own downfall. The great 
European sovereigns resolved to crush out the 
new heresy, though its converts numbered half 
their subjects. With merciless vigor, with fire 
and sword, with confiscation and torture, with 
every cruelty which human power and human 
malice could devise, they pursued the new re- 
ligion, resolved on its extinction. 

In France, where its spread had been so mar- 
velous, where its converts were numerous in every 
class and station, from the palaces of princes to 
the huts of the peasants, the new faith had no bit- 
terer foe than the royal nephew of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme. 

Francis I. seems to have been forced by cir- 
cumstances into his severe but fitful persecution 
of the reformers. The great influence which his 
sister exercised over him was, no doubt, largely 
at the bottom of his wavering and inconsistent at- 
titude toward the new faith ; and his conduct 



1 1 o The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

often puzzled both religious parties in his own 
realm and throughout Europe. But his son never 
relaxed his merciless pursuit of the faith his aunt 
had fostered and cherished throughout France. 

Henry II. launched against the Reformation his 
pitiless edicts. He waged his life-long war against 
it with crudest tortures and fiery death, and he 
entered into a terrible league for its extinction, 
which his own death prevented him from consum- 
mating. During Henry's reign the Guises held 
supreme power at the court of France. They 
were the implacable foes of heresy; every thing 
seemed to yield to their wonderful genius, their 
state-craft, their towering ambition. They con- 
summated their power by the most splendid 
alliances. They ruled at the council board of 
their sovereign. Their pride and haughtiness 
matched their abilities. The grandeur of the old 
line of Bourbon paled before the Guises ; though 
the two houses were closely allied, for the mother 
of the six brothers was the sister of Antoine's 
father. 

Their almost absolute control of public affairs, 
their favor with their sovereign, and their over- 
bearing haughtiness, caused the organization of a 
powerful party at court against the Guises. It 
was composed of the great Constable, Montmo- 
rency, his nephews of the house of Chatillon, lead- 
ers of the new faith, and the princes of the house 
of Bourbon. 

The French queen favored this coalition. In 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 1 1 

her secret soul Catharine feared and hated the 
Guises, almost as though she had some foreboding 
instinct of all the shame and woe they would yet 
work for her race. 

At this time it was her cue to show favor, so far 
as she dared, toward the reformers, and it is a 
fact that the woman, without whom the black night 
of St. Bartholomew had never darkened the page 
of history, often quoted the example of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme as worthy of imitation ! 

The Italian woman's character was little under- 
stood at this period. Despite the crown she wore 
and the children she had borne him, it was believed 
that Henry had little love for her, and that she 
had small influence in his councils. But a few of 
his ministers had made the discovery that she 
often, in some mysterious manner, defeated their 
best-laid schemes. 

Yet the soft, graceful Italian never asserted 
herself; her deportment was always gentle and 
gracious. She never gave offense, or apparently 
took it; but, calm, subtle, vigilant, she laid her plans, 
and read the characters which surrounded her. 

It was to this court, with its factious animosities 
and secret plottings for place and power, that the 
king and queen of Navarre journeyed in the spring 
of 1557. The prince, a beautiful, vigorous boy of 
four years, accompanied them. The sovereigns 
went this time of their own accord to the court of 
France. 

The asylum which the Reformed ministers found 



1 1 2 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

in Beam, and the growth of the heresy in that 
realm, gave great umbrage to the king of France. 
Antoine behaved with his usual indiscretion in 
the display he made of his predilection for the new 
religion, and this at last brought down the wrath 
of Rome and the French king on his head. 

Henry positively threatened to pour an army 
into Beam, and take possession of the territory, 
unless an interdict were laid on the Reformed 
preachers. 

The queen saw that a crisis had come, and that, 
unless she promptly averted the danger, her king- 
dom would be wrested from her. She manifested 
her rare ability again in dealing with this sec- 
ond peril that confronted her. If her vacillat- 
ing husband could have had his own way at 
this crisis, the French armies, with fire and 
sword, would soon have been in Beam. All her 
wifely devotion could not have blinded Jeanne 
during these years to her husband's weaknesses, 
and she acted now quite independently of his 
wishes. She issued an edict that no one was to 
preach in public without a license. It must have 
seemed a cruel decree to the Protestants ; but 
Jeanne, whatever she might have felt later, thought 
that her danger justified her in this measure, as 
well as in dismissing the Reformed ministers 
from her court. Antoine, whose indiscretion had 
largely brought on the peril, was seriously dis- 
pleased at his wife's conduct, but she answered 
his remonstrances with stern directness. " If it be 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 113 

your pleasure, Monseigneur, to lose your domains 
for your intemperate zeal, I have nothing to say; 
but for myself I intend to hold the little that re- 
mains to me of the territories of the kings, my 
ancestors." 

Antoine was obliged to acquiesce, even when 
the queen made her crowning concession of send- 
ing to Rome for the Cardinal d'Armagnac, and 
constituting him the lieutenant of Beam during 
her absence at the court of France, to which 
Jeanne now resolved to make a visit. 

The journey was full of perils, but the result 
proved her wisdom. She had by her compliance 
saved both parties of her subjects from the horrors 
of a religious war. The Catholics were almost 
driven to revolt by the spread of the new doc- 
trines, and it is likely would have joined Guise 
had he entered Beam at the -head of the French 
army to exterminate the hated heresy. 

The queen of Navarre at this time had not 
thrown off her allegiance to the Church of Rome. 
At a later period, when her religious convictions 
were firmly settled, she gave ample proof before 
the world that its highest prizes could not swerve 
her from her faith ; that it was dearer to her than 
her kingdom or her life. 

In the spring of 1557 the king and queen of 
Navarre made their journey to the French court. 
On their way thither Antoine obtained the release 
of a gentleman who was confined in prison on a 
charge of heresy. It was fortunate for Antoine 



114 The Protestant Queen of Navarre \ 

that he secured the sanction of the officers of the 
crown to this step. 

The matter was artfully represented to Henry, 
who, always jealous of his sovereign authority, be- 
lieved that Antoine had taken it upon himself to 
exercise royal prerogatives in the French domin- 
ions. Nothing was more likely to exasperate the 
king than such a conviction. When his cousins 
entered the royal presence they found themselves 
received with the utmost sternness of look and 
manner. "How, Monseigneur," exclaimed the 
angry sovereign, " have I not before told you that 
there shall be but one king in France ? " 

Whatever qualities Antoine lacked, he was not 
without the swift tact of a courtier. " Sire," he 
answered, "before your gracious majesty my sun 
is in eclipse. In this kingdom I am but your sub- 
ject and servant." 

11 Why, then, did you presume to open my pris- 
ons on my authority ? What induced you to do 
that ? " wrathfully persisted the king. 

The true version of the affair, which Antoine 
now gave, set the whole matter in a different light. 
The released heretic, moreover, was a gentleman 
in the train of the Mareschal St. Andre, a favorite 
of Henry's; and Antoine gave his word that he 
had acted on her entreaty, and with the consent 
of the royal officers and judges. 

Henry was mollified. He condescended to ad- 
mit that the affair had been differently represented 
to him, and that he was readv to overlook it, though 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 115 

he warned Antoine, in a manner that was half a 
menace, to remember in future the rank he held 
in France. 

As King Henry spoke these words there burst 
into the room a boy of wonderful beauty, a lit- 
tle past four years old. It was the prince of 
Navarre, who, with characteristic impatience, had 
grown tired of waiting in the ante-room, and he 
had therefore boldly rushed to his parents, his 
face bright with triumphant smiles. 

At that sight the king forgot his wrath. Per- 
haps he remembered that the beautiful child before 
him was the grandson of Marguerite d'Angouleme, 
that name which the king's boyhood had been 
taught to love and reverence above all others. He 
called the boy to him. He lifted the little Henry 
and placed him on the royal knee ; he caressed 
the child fondly, and paid the delighted mother 
many compliments on the beauty and bearing of 
her child. 

He must have contrasted Jeanne's blooming 
son with his own sickly boys. The king had a 
long talk with his small kinsman; he was delight- 
ed with the brightness and wit of the child's re- 
plies. 

" Will you be my little son ? " he asked at 
last. 

The boy turned and fastened his eyes doubt- 
fully on his father. 

" Sire, that is my father," he said, pointing to 
Antoine. 



1 1 6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

"Well, then, will you not like to become my 
little son-in-law ? " continued Henry. 

" Yes, gladly, sire," gravely responded the child. 

It was understood from that time that a mar- 
riage was contemplated between the prince of 
Navarre and Marguerite of Valois, the king's 
youngest daughter. The match would be in all 
respects very suitable, the princess having just at- 
tained her fourth year. 

Great was the delight of the king and queen of 
Navarre. This alliance adopted their son into 
the royal family of France. Jeanne had made 
a fine stroke of policy in bringing her boy to the 
court ; yet, looked at in the light of subsequent 
history, that picture of the meeting of the two 
Henrys, where the young Bourbon sat on the 
knee of the crowned Valois, while the royal lilies 
glittered over both, seems full of tragic signifi- 
cance. 

The queen tried to make the most of her stay 
at court. She saw with dismay the pre-eminence 
which the Guises held there. Every obstacle 
yielded to their consummate management, their 
high daring, their invincible will. The cardinal 
of Lorraine, with his brother, the duke of Guise, 
Jeanne's former suitor, dominated every-where. 
They were born leaders of men, and it was the 
power of personal character which elevated them 
over Antoine of Bourbon, who was their superior 
in rank. 

The queen of Navarre saw with mortification 



the Mother of the Bourbons. iij 

that her husband was a mere cipher at court, 
No command was assigned him in the army now 
getting ready to invade Italy, for Guise, who had 
charge of the entire forces, had persuaded Henry 
to revive the ancient claims of France to the king- 
dom of Naples. 

Jeanne returned to her own realm with her hus- 
band and child, and seems to have parted on good 
terms with all her royal relations. The infant 
princess, born soon afterward, survived but a fort- 
night, and the mother's grief at the loss of her 
third child was rudely broken into by the tidings 
of the terrible defeat of the French army at St. 
Quentin. 

Again, as at Pavia, France lay prostrate at the 
feet of Spain, her proudest chivalry, her bravest 
nobles, slaughtered on the battle-field. In that 
dark hour the nation turned to Guise as its sole 
defender. He had won no laurels in his cam- 
paigns in Italy, but, at the command of the privy 
council, he returned to his country. 

You must have read elsewhere the story of his 
gallant rescue of France from the verge of ruin. 
In less than a fortnight from the time in which 
he assumed command, the Spanish army no longer 
menaced the frontier. He took Calais, that " an- 
cient, fairest jewel in the English crown," and 
razed to the ground the fortresses of Guisnes and 
Ham, and crowned his successes by insuring the 
peace of France in the treaty of Thionville. The 
rescued nation adored its deliverer. When the 



1 1 8 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

duchess of Guise, the fair young cousin whose 
hand Henry had given to his favorite, appeared in 
public, she was greeted with such acclamations as 
subjects only offer their sovereigns : " Hail, grand- 
daughter of the good King Louis XI. ! " 

The guerdon which Guise demanded for his 
victories was the immediate union of the dauphin 
with the duke's niece, Mary Stuart. This alliance 
would bring the crown of France to the house of 
Guise ! 

Catharine de Medici looked forward with the 
utmost dread to this marriage, for she already 
feared the power and ambition of the Guises. 

When the king and queen of Navarre appeared 
at the French court, to which the condition of 
affairs made a journey necessary, they were warm- 
ly welcomed by Catharine, who hoped their pres- 
ence would, to some degree, balance the over- 
whelming power of the Guise faction. 

Jeanne used all her influence, and the daughter 
of Marguerite d'Angouleme must have possessed 
no small amount, with the son of Francis I., to in- 
duce her cousin to bestow the hand of the Scotch 
princess on the duke of Orleans, afterward Charles 
IX. This would have been one remove from the 
throne. 

Henry himself would now have gladly substi- 
tuted his second son for the first, for he was galled 
by the haughty bearing and arrogant manner of 
the conqueror of Calais and his brothers, but he 
could not break his word. The nuptials of the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 119 

Scotch princess were celebrated with the most 
splendid ceremonials and pageants in the April 
of 1568, and the Guises beheld in triumph the 
lilies of France set with the thistles of Scotland 
on the brow of the fair young daughter of their 
house. 

The king and queen of Navarre took their high 
place in the gorgeous bridal procession. Antoine 
supported the youthful bridegroom in his magnifi- 
cent progress to the cathedral where the nuptials 
were solemnized, and Jeanne had her rightful 
rank next to Catharine de Medici ; and that day, 
amid the splendid ceremonials, the souls of the 
two women — souls whose quality and aims were 
wide apart as light and darkness — were over- 
shadowed by the same fear. 

The queen of Navarre did not leave the French 
court for the remainder of the year. Her husband 
made an effort to recover his wife's heritage, and 
sent an army to the Spanish frontier; but secret 
enmities, religious animosities in the army, com- 
bined with terrible tempests which devastated the 
country, made the whole campaign a failure. But 
while Jeanne d'Albret, amid all the seductions of 
the French court, was studying philosophy and 
theology, events were transpiring which were to 
shape and color the rest of her life. 

Secret and treacherous engagements were being 
formed between the Guises and the Spanish court. 
Philip II., whose name and suit had overshadowed 
the girlhood of Jeanne d'Albret, was now develop- 



1 20 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

ing the policy which was to control his long 
reign. His bigotry, no less than his despotism, 
inspired him to undertake the extirpation of her- 
esy throughout the world. 

The king of Spain had inherited the supersti- 
tion, the narrowness, the inveterate obstinacy of 
his race ; there was a touch of its insanity, too, in 
his gloom and suspicion. His intellect was narrow, 
slow, and scheming, he delighted in underhand 
plots and wire-drawn diplomacy. . 

While the conferences for peace between the 
great European powers were going on at Cercamp, 
the Guises were invited to enter into a secret al- 
liance with Spain, which should virtually render 
them independent of their sovereign. 

Their pride, ambition, and love of power, were 
excited by this offer. The secret convention was 
entered into by the duke of Guise, and his broth- 
er, the cardinal of Lorraine. The result of this 
fatal league was to shake the throne, to deluge 
France for the next half century with blood, and 
at last to be the ruin of the house of Guise ! 

On the 15th of November of this year Mary, 
queen of England, expired, and the daughter of 
Anne Boleyn, whose young life had been darkened 
by the shadow of her mother's scaffold, ascended 
the throne of the Tudors, and placed on her fore- 
head the crown which she was to wear with such 
honor and glory for the next forty-five years. In 
consequence of Mary's death an interval of two 
months occurred in the conferences of Cercamp, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 121 

and in this interval that famous meeting took place 
at Peronne which had so great an influence on the 
life and fortunes of Jeanne d'Albret. 

Philip II., the princess Christine of Lorraine, 
devoted to Rome and the House of Hapsburgh, of 
which she was a member, Granvelle, Philip's min- 
ister, and the Guises, all took part in this in- 
terview. Its principal object was the extirpation 
of heresy throughout France, and its bold and 
relentless programme was just suited to the dar- 
ing ambition of the Guises. After the conclusion 
of this shameful league with the ancient foe of 
France, the duke and the cardinal returned home 
to witness another royal marriage, which brought 
the Guises closer to the throne ; this was the 
alliance of the head of their house, the young 
duke of Lorraine, with the princess Claude, second 
daughter of Henry II. and Catharine de Medici. 
The king and queen of Navarre declined to grace 
the unwelcome festivals with their presence, and 
Jeanne returned to Pau, where, on February 9, 1 85 9, 
another daughter, the last of her children, was born. 
The queen of France was her godmother, and 
gave her own name of Catharine to the princess. 

A little later the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis 
was published, in which the Guises had a con- 
trolling voice. . Henry was to give in marriage the 
eldest of his daughters, the young and beautiful 
Elizabeth, to Philip II. His sister, Marguerite, 
was to wed Emanuel, the gallant young duke of 
Savoy, 



122 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Immediately after this treaty was concluded, 
Philip took the first step decided on in the secret 
conferences of Peronne. He intimated to his 
future father-in-law that the court was infected 
with heresy. Henry was eager to prove his au- 
thority ; the cruel edicts were revived ; the fires 
of persecution blazed once more over France ; 
five members of his Parliament were arrested in 
the very presence of their sovereign. The king 
and queen of Navarre declined to be present at 
the approaching nuptials. Jeanne instinctively 
discerned her peril. She knew the implacable 
hatred which the gloomy Philip bore toward her, 
the claimant of one of his crowns, the rejecter of 
his suit, and saw the necessity of taking measures 
for the defense of the kingdom. 

The French king was now absorbed in vast 
plans of persecution, conquest, and aggrandize- 
ment; among which the invasion of England, the 
defeat of the Protestants, the hurling the young 
queen from her throne, and setting the crown of 
the Tudors on the brow of his Scottish daughter- 
in-law, bore the most conspicuous part. 

The nuptials of the French king's daughter and 
sister were celebrated with all conceivable pomp 
and splendor. At the grand tournament in honor 
of the two great marriages, Mary Stuart assumed 
for the first time, as her right, the royal arms of 
England. She watched with that vast assemblage 
her father-in-law as, in the prime of his vigorous 
manhood, he entered the lists to prove his martial 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 123 

skill before the assembled chivalry of Europe. 
She saw the lance of Montgomery quiver in his 
visor as it dealt the fatal death wound. A little 
later all the high dreams of conquest, of glory, and 
dominion were over for Henry II. The sickly 
Francis was king, and the lovely Mary Stuart 
queen of France. The sun of the Guises had 
climbed to its meridian ! 



1 24 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE time had come now which sooner or 
later comes to all lives ; the time which was 
to test the soul of Antoine Bourbon. 

In vain his high-hearted wife besought him to 
be equal to the call which his place and his coun- 
try made on him. 

When the tidings of her cousin's death reached 
her, Jeanne d'Albret took in at a glance the state 
of affairs, the position of parties at court. She 
had not been there during the last year for noth- 
ing ; she had read the towering ambition of the 
Guises, and the scheming soul of Catharine de 
Medici through its fair and gracious demeanor. 

The queen of Navarre had seemed to the gay, 
gallant court absorbed in intellectual studies, in 
theological and philosophical investigations which 
would have taxed the powers of the strongest intel- 
lect. She looked with ill-concealed scorn on the 
petty rivalries and small ambitions of those around 
her. She had not the manners suited to the atmos- 
phere of courts. Her speech was brusque, straight- 
forward, and likely to give offense. Those who re- 
membered the witty and fascinating Marguerite 
d'Angouleme made comparisons any thing but fa- 
vorable to the daughter. But in that gay, splendid 
court of Henry II. no one read with such clear, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 125 

penetrating instinct the souls of the men and 
women about her as she who now in the seclusion 
of Nerac besought her husband to prove equal to 
the grand role which the death of the French king 
opened to him. 

Promptness and decision were necessary at this 
juncture. He who first seized the helm of the 
State would be master of it. Jeanne d'Albret's 
great soul exulted as she saw the noble career 
which opened before her husband. It was his 
place by right of birth to be guardian of the young 
king, to rescue France from the dominion of 
Spain, to check the vindictive ambition of the 
Guises, and to pacify the different parties in the 
realm. But Jeanne d'Albret knew, too, that every 
moment was precious. If Antoine did not be- 
come master of the situation at once his oppor- 
tunity was lost. 

The Guises, the uncles of the new queen, were 
at court, watchful, intriguing, skillful to seize 
every event which they could turn to their own 
aggrandizement, added to which was their subtle 
and dangerous power of managing men. With 
all her passionate eloquence, the queen of Na- 
varre set before her husband the lofty part which 
now devolved on him, and exhorted him to pro- 
ceed at once to court. But the weaker soul 
dallied and wavered, and let the precious mo- 
ments glide by. The truth was, Antoine's mind 
was poisoned by the subtle talk of his favorites, 
persons actually in the pay of Guise at the court 



1 26 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

of Navarre ! These filled him with doubts and 
gloomy forebodings regarding his safety if he ven- 
tured at this crisis into the French court. They 
instilled suspicions of his own party, the leaders 
of which were now waiting with eager impatience 
for him to present himself at their head; and so, 
while the weak nature doubted and wavered, the 
masterful souls, the Guises, resolved and acted. 

After the death of her husband, Catharine re- 
paired at once to the Louvre, and, entering her 
mourning-chamber, remained in the most rigid 
seclusion for forty days, according to the custom 
prescribed by French etiquette for royal widows. 
Catharine's position was immensely changed by 
that accidental thrust of the spear of Montgomery. 
Her fair young daughter-in-law now wore that 
crown which had fallen from her own stately head. 
It was a galling thought to the proud, ambitious 
woman, whose soul was absorbed in schemes of 
personal power and aggrandizement. 

Catharine de Medici had at this time reached 
her fortieth birthday. She was a stately and ele- 
gant woman. Nothing could ruffle that composed 
and gracious demeanor — nothing except a swift 
flash of the dark, watchful eyes, disturb the serene 
calm of her face. 

At the time of her husband's death Catharine was 
the mother of four sons and three daughters, some 
of whom were remarkable for the beauty inherited 
from their French and Florentine ancestry. Thus 
far the real character and power of Catharine had 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 127 

been but little understood. She was now to act a 
new part on the stage of the world, and what 
seemed her greatest misfortune was to bring to 
light the character and genius of the queen-moth- 
er. In the solitude of her mourning-chamber she 
admitted no one to her presence, but her active 
mind was busy with plots and schemes for the es- 
tablishment of her own power in the government. 
She saw, perhaps, with as clear a glance as Jeanne 
d'Albret herself, the position of parties and the 
state of the kingdom ; and the great question with 
her now was to get the controlling power into her 
own hands, by balancing the two great parties 
against each other. Too much stress cannot be 
laid upon this fact. It is the key to Catharine's 
policy through her whole after life. It required a 
mind of no ordinary capacity to conceive of such 
a role, and a dark, subtle genius to execute it. 

One day the cardinal of Lorraine entered the 
chamber suddenly where Catharine de Medici 
held her mourning state. He had ventured on an 
act of consummate audacity. He was probably 
aided in this by his niece, Mary Stuart. Catharine 
received the intruder with amazed reproaches. In 
her heart she hated both him and his house. 
But the cardinal, without heeding the queen 
mother's manner, entered at once with exqui- 
site tact upon his errand. She could not fail 
to be impressed by his arguments and his elo- 
quence. He set before her the condition of par- 
ties, the incapacity and heresy of Antoine Bourbon, 



128 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

who was the nominal head of a great party at 
court — -a party so large and powerful, that, unless 
it was prevented in time, would secure the whole 
direction of affairs, and govern the realm inde- 
pendently of the queen-mother. 

The cardinal represented that Catharine's au- 
thority could only be secured by giving her pow- 
erful support to the Guise party. He appealed 
with all his art to that love of power which was the 
ruling passion of the woman ; he showed her how, 
by espousing his cause and his brothers, she could 
become the real ruler of France, and, as she would 
be the fountain-head of their authority, they would 
always yield implicit submission to her will and 
pleasure. 

It was a nattering picture, but Catharine was 
too astute to be deceived by it. She knew the 
Guises, and did not doubt that when they had the 
reins in their own hands they would yield to her 
wishes only so far as suited their interests. But 
the cardinal's reasoning made a powerful impres- 
sion on the woman, and she felt that she could 
rely on herself to subvert his real designs. 

That long, memorable talk in the mourning- 
chamber was to color the future of the French 
nation. Before the cardinal and the queen-moth- 
er separated she had promised to recognize his 
government and support his policy. 

The Guises followed up their triumph. They 
managed to gain possession of the young king, a 
feeble boy of sixteen, whose character and intel- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 29 

lect gave little promise of future greatness, and 
through him and their beautiful Scotch niece the 
Guises ruled France. 

Roused, when it was too late, by the entreaties 
of his wife and the appeals of his young brother, 
the brave prince of Conde, Antoine made a reluc- 
tant journey to the French court. 

Shameful indignities awaited him on his arrival. 
He found the Guises installed in his own apart- 
ments at the palace. He was excluded from the 
privy council, and he whose birthright made him 
next heir, after the sons of Henry II., to the 
throne of France, was left to stand with his train 
in the court-yard of St. Germain, uncertain wheth- 
er admission to the palace would be granted him. 
The courtly, elegant Antoine made a poor figure 
at this time. He was awed and bewildered; his 
intellect, always slow in its workings, was confused 
by the rapid, daring movements of his enemies. 

In his interview with the queen-mother An- 
toine found her reserved and cold, though her 
manner was partly accounted for by the presence 
of the cardinal of Lorraine. When the young 
king returned from the chase, on which, before An- 
toine's arrival, he had set out with the intention of 
thus heaping a fresh slight on his kinsman, he 
greeted Antoine with a stern reserve which com- 
pletely dismayed him. 

At last he was joined at court by his gallant 
young brother, Conde, whose courage and bearing 
at this crisis gave alarm to the Guises. 



1 30 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

The Spanish embassador worked entirely in 
their interests, and held out to Antoine the tempt- 
ing bait of the restoration of his wife's lost heri- 
tage of Spanish Navarre if he would not interfere 
with the present government. 

The cardinal of Lorraine appreciated the high 
spirit of the queen of Navarre, and thought his 
triumph over the Bourbon princess incomplete 
until he had witnessed it. A royal mandate sum- 
moned her to court ; but she proved herself a 
match for the Guises, and positively refused to 
stir out of her own dominions. She had lately 
discovered that a great peril menaced them. In 
their fear and hatred of Jeanne d'Albret, the 
Guises had entered into a treacherous plot to 
deliver her fortress of Bayonne into the hands of 
Philip's viceroy in Spanish Navarre. 

The plot came to nothing, and the Guises loud- 
ly denied any participation in it ; but the queen 
never doubted the existence of the conspiracy, 
and her suspicions, once awakened in this quarter, 
were never put to sleep. 

After the coronation of the new king and queen 
was over— a ceremony which seemed devised in 
this instance to display on a grand stage the posi- 
tion and splendor of the Guises in the realm, and 
to depress and humiliate the Bourbon princes — 
Mary Stuart's uncles, anxious to separate Antoine 
and his brother, prevailed upon the former to ac- 
company Elizabeth, the bride of Philip II., on her 
progress to the Spanish frontier. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 131 

Jeanne, accompanied by the prince of Navarre, 
met her young cousin at Bordeaux, where they all 
kept the Christmas festival. The fair young girl 
who was going to be the bride of the gloomy Span- 
ish king, and whose nuptial ceremonies had cost 
her father his life, seems to have been sincerely 
attached to her godmother and kinswoman. 

Jeanne d'Albret gave a signal proof of her fear- 
less spirit at this time. She asserted in the strong- 
est manner her own rights and rank as a sovereign 
and princess of Europe before Spain and France, 
the powerful monarchies which lay on either 
side of her territories watching for a chance to 
seize them. 

Elizabeth of Valois was going from her sunny 
home in France to the wearisome splendor of her 
new life at the court of Spain. She had made the 
grandest alliance in the world ; but her bride- 
groom courted greedily that small kingdom among 
the Pyrenees, which was all his great-grandfather 
had left to the House of Albret. 

None but a very brave woman would, under 
such circumstances, have aroused the powerful 
king's anger by taking precedence of his bride; 
but Jeanne did this from the moment that Eliza- 
beth entered the kingdom of Navarre. Great was 
the indignation which this act excited both at the 
French and Spanish courts ; but there was no help 
for it. Jeanne d'Albret had only asserted her 
rank and rights as a sovereign, and the haughty 
Philip had to swallow his wrath, though the sov- 



132 The Protestant Queen of Navarre \ 

ereign of a petty territory on his frontiers had 
taken precedence of the queen of Spain. 

There were dark days in store for France. 
The Guises, with their arrogance and despotism, 
carried every thing before them. They entered 
on their lease of power resolved to exterminate 
heresy, and they pursued the new faith with re- 
morseless cruelty. In league with Spain, secure 
of the favor of the young king whose wife had 
been trained to make the aggrandizement of her 
mother's house the ruling purpose of her life, the 
Guises deemed themselves invulnerable. Their 
pitiless reign created disaffection, and aroused tu- 
mults throughout the realm ; and at last the popular 
exasperation and hatred ended in the conspiracy 
of Amboise. Its main object was the arrest and 
impeachment of the Guises. The Protestants 
had laid their plans with the utmost skill, and no 
doubt would have carried them out had they not 
been basely betrayed by one of the Huguenot 
leaders. 

The Guises, forewarned, defeated their enemies. 
The prisons were filled with victims, and the 
numbers of her massacred citizens sent terror to 
the heart of Paris. The Guises went unchecked 
on their despotic course. They boldly defied 
Catharine de Medici. They alienated the king 
from his mother; while Mary Stuart, reckless and 
defiant, insulted one who never forgot or forgave. 

At last the Guises determined on the extermi- 
nation of the Bourbon princes. Fear, vengeance, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 133 

and the possession of irresponsible power, with 
a determination to retain it, could alone have 
prompted the haughty brothers to the execution 
of so monstrous a scheme. 

After the failure of the plot of Amboise, Conde 
took refuge with his brother at the court of Na- 
varre. The young gallant prince was more or 
less implicated in the plot which had shown the 
Guises their danger, and driven them into this 
sanguinary scheme for the destruction of all their 
enemies. 

When things were ripe for the commencement 
of their dark drama, Francis II., whose youth and 
feebleness made him a mere tool in the hands of 
his uncles, wrote a peremptory letter to Antoine, 
desiring him to bring Conde to Orleans that the 
prince might answer before the States-general to 
be assembled there the charges for treasonable 
conspiracy in the late rising at Amboise. 

The queen of Navarre at once took the alarm. 
She saw through the royal mandate some sin- 
ister design of her enemies. This assembling 
together in one place and at one time the princes 
of the blood, with their adherents, the most illus- 
trious personages in the kingdom, boded no good 
in the mind of Jeanne d'Albret. Her instinct 
pointed here to the real danger, as later it pointed 
toward another — that frightful hour which was 
waiting not far up the years ; an hour which was 
to be the blackest in history of all the hours of 
that old century. 
9 



1 34 The Protestant Queen of Navarre ; 

She opposed with all her power and influence 
the departure of her husband and his brother 
for the French court. " It is your salvation," she 
said to Conde, in that clear, earnest voice through 
which always rung the prompt, straightforward 
words, " and that of the king of Navarre, to re- 
main here. Stay, or at least appear before the 
princes of Lorraine surrounded by a force which 
shall compel them to respect the august blood of 
Bourbon." But Antoine seemed infatuated. He 
who could not be roused by his wife's eloquence 
and entreaties to seize the moment when a great 
nation called him to become its leader; he who 
had wavered and dallied until his hour had passed 
forever, now perversely resolved on placing him- 
self in the power of his enemies. 

In vain his wife besought, and his friends sent 
warnings and remonstrances. In vain, too, the 
queen of Navarre, with tears, besought her brave 
young brother-in-law not to put himself in the 
power of the Guises. She knew the genius of the 
race, its consummate art, its indomitable will, its 
stupendous ambition, and its remorseless cruelty 
toward whatever stood in its way. But Conde 
had the reckless confidence of youth. He had 
borne no personal share in the rising at Amboise ; 
and secure in his innocence, and not dreaming of 
the toils prepared for him, he resolved not to suf- 
fer his brother to go alone to the court. 

Jeanne saw the two so dear to her depart with 
the saddest forebodings. Many tears blinded 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 135 

those beautiful eyes as she watched the numerous 
retinue of the king and his brothers disappear, 
while she felt they were going into perils which 
no one could measure. But she was not a woman 
to waste her time in useless regrets. Her genius 
was prompt, active, forecasting. She at once as- 
sembled the thirteen barons of Beam, and, taking 
council with them, garrisoned her fortresses on 
the French frontier, and placed her principality 
in a complete state of defense. 

In October, 1559, when the soft golden air of 
the French autumn smiled on hill-side and valley, 
the court made its memorable entrance into Or- 
leans. It was the day of the Guises' power and 
triumph. They had arranged the whole pro- 
gramme of that state-entrance into the old French 
city which was to be the theater of the bloody 
drama now resolved on. 

Heresy and the house of Bourbon were to be 
destroyed ! The Guises did not stop at half-meas- 
ures, and on the success of this double plot, which 
would gratify alike their bigotry and their venge- 
ance, the uncles of Mary Stuart believed their 
security depended. 

King Francis was accompanied by his wife's 
uncles. The tall, pale, melancholy boy rode under 
the royal canopy at the head of eight thousand 
soldiers, and the drums beat and the flags waved 
in the golden October air ; and no one of all 
those watching thousands saw a guest who rode 
side by side under the royal canopy with Fran- 



136 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

cis II. ; no one dreamed that splendid entry into 
Orleans would be the last pageant, at whose head, 
with the drums beating and the fleur de /^waving, 
the king would ever ride. Side by side, too, on 
their white palfreys, rode the queens who did not 
love each other; the stately, smiling Florentine, 
and the fair young Scotch woman. Little did Mary 
Stuart dream that, too, was her last ride as queen of 
France. Catharine had been obliged to dissem- 
ble, but beneath that calm, smiling exterior raged 
the fiercest passions of disappointment, ambition, 
vengeance, and hatred. The queen-mother had 
undergone humiliations and affronts intolerable to 
her haughty pride. She had even been forced to 
take part in this pageant for the glory of the 
Guises ; but schemes of future triumph and re- 
venge were at work in that wily, subtle brain as 
she bowed in graceful acknowledgment of the 
shouts of the populace. 

The next day the plot opened with the arrest 
of many of the most illustrious men and women 
of France. The inhabitants of Orleans had pre- 
viously been commanded to give up their arms ; 
every householder suspected of heresy had troops 
quartered in it ; while every nobleman of the 
kingdom had been compelled to present himself 
at Orleans. " The nation, arraigned before the 
tribunal of the cardinal of France, seemed to await 
its doom in gloomy silence." 

Here into the city, which lay helpless beneath 
the iron heel of the Guises, came, on the last 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 137 

day of October, the king of Navarre and Conde. 
They had run blindly into the snare. The warn- 
ings which had followed them all the way from 
Navarre would probably have caused them to turn 
back, had not messages from Catharine de Medici 
constantly urged them forward. 

Catharine did not act independently at this 
time. Forced to submit to the power of the 
Guises, and to yield an apparent acquiescence to 
all their high-handed measures, her tireless brain 
was weaving secret plots to circumvent the pol- 
icy of her daughter-in-law. She had so bitterly 
opposed that Scotch marriage, and now it was 
yielding its fruits! The queen- mother looked to 
the Bourbons to support her in her secret projects 
to traverse the Guises. But it was necessary to 
proceed warily. The bright eyes of Mary Stuart 
were on her mother-in-law, and Catharine might 
be overwhelmed in the ruin which the uncles of 
the young queen had vowed on all their enemies. 

The reception which awaited Antoine and his 
brother was not calculated to allay their fears. 

Francis, accompanied by his wife's uncles, met 
his kinsmen. The platform on which the throne 
stood was surrounded by an armed guard. That 
very evening, on leaving the apartments of Cath- 
arine de Medici, with whom he had just had an 
interview, the prince of Conde was arrested. On 
his way to prison the tearful face, the solemn en- 
treaties of his sister-in-law at their last meeting, 
must have risen reproachfully in his memory, and 



138 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

it is likely that he cursed himself for the head- 
long obstinacy with which he had rushed on his 
doom. 

The death of Conde had been resolved on before 
he entered the city. The cardinal of Lorraine, 
skilled in reading men, felt that the young prince's 
courage and talent, combined with his lofty rank, 
would make him a formidable opponent, and one 
who must be put out of the way at any cost. 

Antoine, with far less real ability than his 
younger brother, was yet to be dreaded on ac- 
count of the vengeance he might take for Conde's 
death, so it was deemed best to involve him in 
the same destruction. 

Catharine at this terrible crisis interposed. She 
alone saved the king of Navarre from sharing 
Conde's prison ; and even the duke of Guise, half- 
appalled by his brother's measures, pretended to 
disapprove them. The trial and condemnation of 
the prince was a mere matter of form. The king 
of Navarre in that hour of terror and agony car- 
ried his unsuccessful suit for his brother's life to 
the queen-mother. Catharine shed tears. Wheth- 
er these were real or feigned, they were more for 
herself, and her lost pomp and power, than for that 
young head lying under the shadow of the scaffold. 
So the Guises had doomed their own cousins to 
destruction ! For though it would seem hardly 
credible, if it were not an historic fact, the mother 
of those six haughty brothers was the sister of the 
father of Antoine and Conde\ 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 139 

It is certain that at this juncture Catharine de 
Medici's warning saved the life of Antoine Bour- 
bon. Her own secret schemes for future power 
and vengeance would have all been frustrated by 
the death of the Bourbon princes, without whose 
aid she could never hope to circumvent the Lor- 
raine-Guises. 

The weak young king had been excited almost 
to frenzy by the representations of his uncles. 
Strange and monstrous as it seems, a plot for the 
assassination of Antoine had actually been re- 
solved on in the royal councils. He was to be sum- 
moned into the presence-chamber, where Francis 
was to lay to his charge the condition of France, 
and overwhelm him with reproaches. Suddenly, 
as though transported with passion, Francis was 
to strike at Antoine with his poniard. The cardi- 
nal of Lorraine, the duke of Guise, and one other 
nobleman who was in the secret, were then to 
rush upon the helpless Antoine and dispatch 
him ! 

Catharine de Medici learned through the young 
king of the existence of this foul project. She 
remonstrated against it in horror, and then sent 
the duchess of Montpensier, a friend of Antoine's, 
to acquaint him with his peril, and warn him not to 
hazard a private interview with the king. When 
Antoine received a summons to the royal presence 
he therefore failed to obey it. A second and more 
peremptory one followed. Antoine had the cour- 
age of his race, and he now resolved to present 



140 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

himself before the king. He, however, called 
Renty, a favorite servant, to his side, revealed 
his fears, and desired him, in case his master 
was assassinated, to carry the blood-stained shirt 
to the queen of Navarre. 

" Brave Renty," he said, " she will avenge my 
death ! Let her send the fragments of this shirt 
to every court in Europe, that all its sovereigns 
may read there how they ought to avenge the 
death of a king." 

So, taking his life in his hand, Antoine calmly 
entered the presence-chamber. The young king 
stood by a table attired in a loose robe, a dagger 
hanging at his girdle. The cardinal of Lorraine 
closed the door behind Antoine. The duke of 
Guise was not present ; if he shared the counsels, 
he shrank from carrying out the infamous plot. 

Antoine was on his guard. During the inter- 
view his manner was so deferential and submis- 
sive that Francis could not provoke a quarrel. 
Brought face to face with his intended victim, the 
weak boy's heart under the kingly robes probably 
failed. The dark eyes in the young, pallid face 
must have looked with bewildered, half-menacing 
doubt at Antoine ; but, unable to nerve himself to 
the deed which he had resolved on, Francis suf- 
fered his kinsman at last to leave his presence 
unharmed. 

The cardinal of Lorraine was almost beside 
himself with rage at the failure of his plot to 
fid himself of the first prince of the blood. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 141 

The day for Conde's execution drew near; the 
Guises were invulnerable to all appeals for mer- 
cy. The unarmed city awaited the doom of the 
prince in gloomy silence. At this juncture the 
king fell ill. He had behaved singularly for 
some time, breaking out in unaccountable trans- 
ports of rage, and then sinking into fits of sul- 
len gloom, and the young face beneath the 
crown grew thin and ghastly, while a strange, 
fierce light flashed and faded in the dark eyes 
of Francis II. 

The royal physicians pronounced his malady 
abscess on the brain, and he grew rapidly worse 
under their harsh measures. 

The Guises were thoroughly dismayed. On 
that young, failing life rested the foundations 
of that supreme despotism which they had raised 
with almost superhuman skill. 

They watched eagerly around the royal couch 
for some change in the sharpening face, the 
nickering breath. 

But Francis did not rally. The sons and 
daughters who came of Valois and Medici were, 
for the most part, a sickly brood, and fell an easy 
prey to disease. 

At last the physicians pronounced the case 
hopeless, and a rumor went through the old city 
that the king of France was dying. 

And now Catharine felt that the time had come 
for her to act. It is not likely the queen-mother 
felt any poignant grief over the death of a son 



142 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

whose longer reign meant for her only humiliation 
and misery. Catharine issued an order for the delay 
of the execution of Conde, and the Guises, much 
as they desired to, did not dare in the present 
change of affairs to countermand the queen-moth- 
er's order. She summoned the king of Navarre to 
a private conference. He entered her presence to 
find her bathed in tears and attended only by his 
friend, the duchess of Montpensier, whose coun- 
sels had more or less influenced Catharine's late 
movements. 

In a few words she explained her position. If 
the young king should die, his brother Charles, a 
boy of ten, would ascend the throne, and the king 
of Navarre, by right of his birth, would be regent 
of France. 

In case Antoine would resign this position to 
herself, Catharine offered to make him lieutenant- 
general of the kingdom, and to issue all edicts in 
their joint names. 

If he refused her overtures, the queen-mother 
declared she would espouse the party of the Guises, 
as they had lowered their pretensions and offered 
to support her claims on any conditions she might 
impose. 

Antoine had been warned by his friend, the 
duchess of Montpensier, if he valued his own 
life or his brother's, not to oppose the queen, and, 
as we have seen, he had not the quality of mind 
which makes a man master in an emergency. 
Bewildered by the perils around him, the king of 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 143 

Navarre resigned his pretensions to the regency in 
favor of Catharine de Medici. 

On the 5th of December, 1859, the short, miser- 
able reign of Francis was over. The fair young 
queen, who, under the guidance of her maternal 
kinsmen, had used her brief day of glory so fatal- 
ly for herself, took from her lovely forehead the 
crown of France, and went to her mourning state 
at Fontainebleau ; while her uncles, shorn for the 
present of place and power, left the court. 

A round-shouldered, awkward boy, with thin, sad 
face, and dark, gloomy eyes, out of which gleamed 
at times a wild, fierce light, was king of France. 

In the first day of the new year, 1560, the queen 
of Navarre learned the glad tidings of her hus- 
band's escape and elevation to his new dignities. 

Great must have been the joy which filled that 
noble soul so lately torn with fear and anguish. 
Conde was at liberty, and once more the idol of 
the Protestants. 

Antoine prayed the queen to join him at St. 
Germain, whither the court had removed from the 
gloomy associations of Orleans. 

But the queen still remained distrustful of the 
future. She only journeyed as far as Nerac, where 
she took up her abode with her children, the prince 
and his sister Catharine. Something whispered 
to her soul that the fair, smiling aspect of things 
was not to be trusted, that some danger lurked 
in the gracious favor heaped on Antoine by the 
queen-mother, and the very eagerness displayed 



144 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

by Catharine to see Jeanne at St. Germain put the 
latter on her guard. 

She resolved not to leave Navarre for the pres- 
ent. Her husband's new honors — possibly his life 
— would be safer while she remained at the head 
of a powerful force in the south of France. 

Again her forecast was true. Trials and perils 
had gathered around Jeanne D'Albret from her 
birth ; but the darkest days and the heaviest trials 
were in that future before her, a future which now 
seemed serene and smiling — a fair landscape from 
whose face the long tempest had rolled away 
forever. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 145 



CHAPTER VII. 

NO one who has seen a portrait of the queen 
of Navarre would ever be likely to forget 
the fine, spirited, inrellectual face ; the delicate 
curve of the nostrils ; the mouth, calm and firm ; 
the wide, lofty forehead ; above all, the large, 
beautiful eyes. No woman of ordinary heart or 
brain ever had a face like that. It is a face 
hardly yet in its prime. No line of coming age is 
on brow or chin, or smoothly rounded cheek. A 
lofty invincible soul looks out of every feature. 
One sees at a glance that here is a fearless, reso- 
lute nature, which neither bribes nor threats could 
daunt ; yet there is in the large, magnificent eyes, 
as of one who has borne silent and awful griefs, 
a settled melancholy ; her glance, it seems, must 
once have searched whatever meanness or false- 
hood came in its way. The more one studies 
the picture, the more through all its life and spirit 
the sadness grows, until at last the pathos, which 
hardly strikes one at first sight, comes to be the 
predominant expression. 

Soon after the death of Francis II., the queen 
of Navarre, with the advice of her council, took a 
step which decided her whole future. She made 
an open profession of the Protestant religion, and 
in order to leave .no doubt as to the sincerity of 



146 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

her convictions, she received the communion ac- 
cording to the Reformed ritual in the great cathe- 
dral at Pau, before she departed for Nerac. 

The queen of Navarre had chosen the right mo- 
ment for this fearless profession of her faith. De- 
livered from the galling yoke of the Guises, and 
resolved never to submit to it again, Catharine 
de Medici opened the new reign with an entire 
change of policy. Antoine, her coadjutor in the 
government, was an avowed Lutheran, and she 
received the Huguenot leaders with gracious cor- 
diality, and for a while the court of France 
beamed sunshine on the Reformation. 

Jeanne d'Albret had been slow in changing the 
religion of her youth. The great questions at 
issue between the old and new faith had long 
interested her intellect and heart. Religion was 
no matter of expediency with her ; but before its 
solemn claims all human interests dwindled to 
insignificance. When she had once made up her 
mind, however, nothing could move her ; and her 
profession at Pau was the most important act of 
her life, and one which was to shape all her future 
conduct. 

Soon after her arrival at Nerac the queen-regent 
sent pressing letters for Jeanne to repair to court. 
She proposed to betroth her little namesake, Cath- 
arine, to her favorite son, Henry of Anjou ; and 
she called the children of Jeanne d'Albret her 
own, assuring the queen of Navarre that she 
could have no more sincere or affectionate rela- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 147 

tive than herself. All these fine protestations, 
however, increased Jeanne's inveterate suspicions. 

Yet Catharine de Medici was as honest here 
as she was in any act of her life, and that was 
precisely as far as her own interests were involved, 
as I have already mentioned. Self-interest was 
the key-note to her whole policy; the governing 
motive of that long political game which she was 
now to play for thirty years on the theater of 
European affairs. She had been educated in the 
dark school of Italian politics, and she believed 
that she could only hold her power by maintain- 
ing the balance between the two great parties at 
court. 

Utterly selfish, and unscrupulously hard, cun- 
ning, adroit, revengeful, and cruel when her pas- 
sions were aroused, she had the sagacity and 
genius of her race for the management of affairs, 
for playing off one party against the other. There 
was no act, however foul or false, of which she was 
incapable when her own interests were at stake. 
With a marvelous power of reading the faults and 
weaknesses of men, and of seizing the right mo- 
ment and bending it to her purpose, she accom- 
plished her ends by management, by subtle diplo- 
macy, by working in the dark. 

Her manners were the perfection of grace. No 
one, on whom she chose to exert them, could with- 
stand the power of her fascinations. Every ex- 
pression had been schooled with the utmost art. 
Her smile was always bland, her voice soft and 



148 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

winning, and her quiet, inscrutable face was a per- 
fect mask for whatever feeling lay behind it. 

Catharine de Medici's intellect was not broad 
or forecasting; yet she was in one sense a great 
woman, for her genius for intrigue, her wily diplo- 
macy, her subtle combinations, appalled and baffled 
the wisest statesmen of Europe. But all things 
at first went smoothly with the new reign. The 
queen-regent and Antoine governed the kingdom 
with the utmost harmony until the return of the 
duke of Guise to the French court. 

Antoine de Bourbon was not fitted by nature 
for the high position which he now occupied. His 
craving vanity, his ambition, his jealousy, made 
him an easy victim to the stronger spirits who 
could play upon his faults. 

The number and strength of the Huguenots, the 
favor which the queen-mother openly showed to 
them, the public profession of her faith by the 
queen of Navarre, alarmed the Guises and the 
Spanish faction at the court of France. 

The bigotry and superstition of the king of 
Spain were aroused. A dark plot was now set 
on foot, whose main features were the restoration 
of the Guises to power, and the triumph of the old 
faith. The first step in the new movement was to 
gain over Antoine by promises and flattery, to se- 
cure a recantation of his heresy, to separate him 
from his wife, whose destruction was coolly re- 
solved on, and to sow dissensions between him 
and the queen-mother. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 149 

Catharine at this time actually attended the 
Huguenot services in company with the young 
king, Antoine, and some of the highest ladies of 
her court. She alluded, with a shudder which 
must have been sincere, to what she called " the 
iron sway of the Guisards ; " and she even went 
so far as to assure the deputies of the liers-Etat 
that she would cause the young king and his brother 
to be brought up in the Reformed belief! 

True to her policy, however, when the great 
Catholic nobles reproached the regent for her 
toleration of heresy she told a very different story. 
She laid all the blame at the door of her coadjutor, 
king Antoine, and insisted that a party which had 
for its leaders the first prince of the blood, his 
consort, a sovereign princess, and the Colignis, 
the favorite nephews of the constable, must re- 
ceive some consideration from the government. It 
was her policy to conciliate both parties. 

Catharine found Antoine a most uncomfortable 
partner in the government. She did all in her 
power to please him, but his follies and jealousies 
gave her immense trouble. Any especial favor be- 
stowed by her upon the duke of Guise was sure 
to inflame Antoine's wrath, although the former 
now found it for his interest to treat his old enemy 
with profound regard. 

The queen of Navarre's suspicions were at last 

quieted ; she therefore made up her mind to repair 

to the court. Catharine entreated her to delay no 

longer. The regent was aware of the influence 
10 



150 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

which Jeanne's stronger character exercised over 
her vacillating husband, and heneeded her more 
than ever now he had attained almost irresponsi- 
ble power. 

In the pleasant summer weather the queen of 
Navarre left Nerac, accompanied by her children 
and a large train of cavaliers. She little suspected 
the sorrows which were to wring her soul before 
she would gaze again on the pleasant home of her 
ancestors. 

The plot was ripening for the destruction of 
the noblest woman of that era, as the royal train 
wound joyously through the ripening harvest fields 
and purpling vineyards of southern France. That 
brave young boy, with his blue, eager eyes, whose 
life was to fill so mighty a place in history, rode by 
his mother's side, his fair curls blowing in the sum- 
mer wind. Could his mother have seen what 
awaited them both, she would have turned back 
with him to the safe shelter of the home she was 
leaving at Nerac. 

Antoine was delighted to greet his wife and his 
children ; and Catharine, in her real or affected 
pleasure at Jeanne's appearance, in vain pressed 
her to accept apartments in the Louvre. 

The Spanish cabal at court were greatly agitated 
on the arrival of Jeanne d'Albret. They hated 
and feared the woman. They dreaded lest her 
keen penetration should detect the foul plot which 
they had formed for her destruction. It had been 
carefully matured before her arrival. Philip II. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 151 

intended to lure Antoine from his faith and his 
wife, by offering at last to restore the Spanish 
portion of her dominions. 

All the arts of the master spirits of subtle diplo- 
macy at the French and Papal courts were en- 
listed in this game. They went over the ground 
carefully, and laid their schemes with matchless 
skill. 

Antoine's ear was now gained. His vanity, his 
vulgar ambition, his credulity, were all played on, 
and they made him the easiest of victims. One 
central fact was insisted on in all these secret in- 
terviews. The king of Navarre and his wife must 
return to the ancient faith before Philip could 
consent to restore the ancient territories. In a 
little while, seeing their arguments having the de- 
sired effect, the enemies of Jeanne d'Albret grew 
bolder. They commiserated her husband for his 
submission to the will of so hard and imperious a 
woman as his queen, and by artfully playing on 
Antoine's self-love made him seriously dissatisfied 
with his wife. 

The queen of Navarre soon after her entrance 
into Paris had dispatched an envoy to the court of 
Philip II., and boldly demanded restitution of her 
kingdom of Spanish Navarre. It was now more 
than half a century since Philip's grandfather had 
wrested it from Jeanne's grandmother. 

At the suit of his wife, who seems always to 
have been warmly attached to her kinswoman and 
godmother, the redoubtable Philip granted the 



152 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

embassador audience. The queen-mother threw 
the weight of her influence on the side of her 
husband's cousin, and it is a fact that an epistle of 
the boy-king, Charles IX., still exists, in which he 
entreats his sister, the queen of Spain, to inter- 
cede with her husband in behalf of the sovereigns 
of Navarre. 

Philip's answer was like himself. " If the sov- 
ereigns of Beam — he had long ago assumed the 
title of king of Navarre — desired the restitution of 
their heritage, they must return to the religion of 
their fathers," and with this message Jeanne's em- 
bassador left Spain. 

About this time an important interview took 
place between Antoine and his wife's enemies. 
They felt the time had now arrived to act, and 
they threw off the mask, and unfolded their dia- 
bolical plot. 

They must have utterly poisoned the mind of 
Antoine Bourbon, else the monstrous scheme, once 
unvailed to him, would have stirred some manli- 
ness at the bottom of his weak, vain nature. 

The first move in the vast political game, where 
the king of Navarre believed he was playing for 
such high stakes, though he was in reality but the 
poor puppet of shrewder and baser souls, was to 
incite him to apply for a divorce on the ground of 
his wife's pre-contract to the duke of Cleves. 
The fair hand of Mary Stuart, queen-dowager of 
France, was then solemnly pledged to Antoine. 
His old enemies, the Guises, he was assured, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 153 

would gladly promote the alliance, provided An- 
toine resigned his connection with the Huguenots. 

The triple crowns of England, Scotland, and 
Navarre were held, a dazzling bribe, before the 
bewildered, credulous Antoine. With most con- 
summate art, with most glowing oratory, the splen- 
did future which awaited him was pictured. 

Nothing was forgotten. It was suggested that 
the queen-mother could be deposed from her re- 
gency, which in that case would be conferred upon 
the first prince of the blood. Finally, he was ex- 
horted to return to his old religion, as there re- 
mained between him and the throne only three 
princes of tender years and failing health. An- 
toine, whose weak mind was dazzled by this vast 
programme, arranged with such skill to appeal to 
all his foibles, requested time to consider such 
startling proposals, and engaged to preserve invio- 
lable secrecy regarding them. 

From that moment the enemies of Jeanne d'Al- 
bret considered their victory certain. The dark 
intrigues against her soon bore their fruit. An- 
toine grew cold, moody, irritable toward her. He 
insulted her by neglect before the court ; he out- 
raged her feelings as a wife by lavishing in her pres- 
ence the most devoted attention on one of Catha- 
rine's gay, frivolous maids of honor. 

At last he proceeded to open persecution of 
the woman who had brought him a crown and a 
realm, the one weakness of whose life had been 
her affection for a nature so ignoble. He returned 



154 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

to the Romish faith, and several times tried to 
compel his wife to attend mass. The prince, a 
gallant boy of ten, happened to be present at one 
of those painful interviews between the royal pair, 
when Antoine was endeavoring to assert his marital 
authority. 

Henry was devotedly attached to his mother, 
and, grieved and outraged at the treatment she 
received, he flew to her side endeavoring to shield 
her from his father's violence. In a transport of 
rage Antoine seized the child, and cruelly beat 
him despite the agonized entreaties of his wife. 

Perhaps a more conciliatory deportment at 
this juncture would have better served the cause 
of Jeanne d'Albret; but her honest, fearless na- 
ture could not disguise the real contempt and 
scorn with which she viewed the conduct of her 
husband. 

All the circumstances of her life had developed 
the native independence and force of her character. 
The long contest which she had maintained in her 
childhood with her royal uncle had left its mark. 
Her words, like herself, straightforward and un- 
flinching, always made the offender writhe, always 
fell with their fiery scorn on whatever was false or 
base. 

At last Antoine, stung past self-control by her 
manner, revealed the plot formed against her, and 
threatened to sue for divorce unless she hence- 
forth yielded implicit obedience to his commands. 

The queen listened in silence to this story, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 155 

to these menaces. For awhile amazement and 
horror took from her all power of speech. Her 
sole answer was the tears wrung from her proud, 
tender heart. She seemed only a weak, crushed 
woman. But when she roused herself at last from 
this cruel blow and spoke, she did it with all the 
spirit of Jeanne d'Albret. 

Antoine, despite his faults, had a father's love 
for his children. In their name the mother ap- 
pealed to him now. She reminded him that their 
separation would despoil the prince and his sister 
of their birthright, and brand them with illegiti- 
macy before the world, a fact which their father, 
in his dreams of future power and grandeur, had 
entirely lost sight of. She implored him not to 
doom his innocent offspring to this disgrace. But 
in the bitterness of that hour Jeanne d'Albret 
must have thought how that old betrothal at 
Chatellerault, with all its wretched grandeur, was 
destined to darken her life long after those who 
had forced her into it were at rest in their graves. 

Antoine was at last moved. He finally con- 
descended to reply that " his wife had better ren- 
der their separation unnecessary by returning, as 
he was doing, to the old faith, although still unde- 
cided in his own mind which was the true one.'" 

But from this hour the royal pair were deeply 
alienated. Jeanne was too proud to complain, 
and she still loved her husband who had so cru- 
elly wronged her. Her conduct was marked by 
rare prudence at this trying time. Jeanne made 



156 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

no complaints. She bore all her husband's neg- 
lect, the insulting airs of his mistress, Catharine's 
maid of honor, without a word. She, one of the 
sovereigns of Europe, lived almost isolated at the 
gay, pleasure-loving French court, and she com- 
pelled her worst enemies to respect while they 
feared her. 

Religious differences and political strifes con- 
tinued to distract the French court. When at 
last Antoine went boldly over and joined the 
leaders of the Romish party, Catharine de Medici 
took the alarm, for this destroyed the balance of 
parties by which alone she hoped to maintain her 
power. In an interview with Jeanne d'Albret, 
Catharine, with the winning eloquence in which 
she excelled, besought her to become reconciled 
to her husband, and advised her to return to the 
Catholic faith. 

"Madame," passionately rejoined the queen of 
Navarre, " if I at this very moment held my son 
and all the kingdoms of the world together in my 
grasp, I would hurl them to the bottom of the sea 
rather than peril the salvation of my soul ! " 

There spoke out the honest, uncompromising 
nature of Jeanne d'Albret, and what she said that 
she would live. 

A character of this kind was incomprehensible 
to Catharine de Medici. It not only perplexed 
but tacitly reproached her, and her dread and dis- 
like of the queen of Navarre grew stronger as time 
developed the utter antagonism at bottom of their 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 157 

characters. Jeanne d'Albret was, perhaps, the one 
person in the whole world whom Catharine de Me- 
dici could not cajole or deceive. What she hated, 
what stood in her way, she always resolved to de- 
stroy; and Jeanne's terrible honesty, her scorn, 
and scathing of all those arts, and that fine under- 
hand diplomacy, in which the genius of Catharine 
de Medici consisted, formed the secret of that 
long persistent enmity which ended only with the 
life of Jeanne d'Albret. 

The French queen vailed her real meaning in 
soft words and flowery mazes of rhetoric ; Jeanne's 
speech leaped like flame, straight to the point, and, 
sweeping away every disguise, laid bare the hidden 
motive in all its naked baseness. 

How could such a woman serve the purposes 
and ambitions of Catharine de Medici ? She only 
exposed and defeated them, and awoke at last a 
deadly vengeance in the Italian woman's soul. 

The animosities at court daily grew stronger, 
and the storm was gathering which was soon to 
deluge France with blood. 

The queen of Navarre, a young woman of only 
thirty-three, broken hearted at the base conduct 
of her husband, left the court at St. Germain, and 
returned with her daughter Catharine to Paris, 

Antoine made no objections to her departure. 
Perhaps remorse or faint doubt as to the good 
faith of the Spanish court sometimes haunted 
his thoughts. But the Spanish embassador was 
always at hand with some plausible falsehood, 



158 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

In the name of his master he now offered An- 
toine the island of Sardinia for his acceptance, 
representing it as a paradise of delights. He 
caused a map of the country to be drawn, on 
which were the sites of noble cities, whole dis- 
tricts of fertile soil, and most delicious scenery, all 
of which had no existence. The infatuation of 
Antoine at this period seems incredible, and must 
have inspired those who deceived him with the 
most profound contempt. Yet he was now, as 
ever, a splendid figure in that gay, corrupt court. 
He was a favorite with its luxurious cavaliers, 
and its volatile maids of honor, who ensnared him 
with their well-studied arts. He moved amid 
them all in the picturesque costume of the age, 
with the waving plumes, the flashing jewels, the 
glowing colors which set off his handsome person 
to advantage. 

The young prince, greatly to his mother's regret, 
remained at court with his father. She might 
well fear the effect of its pernicious atmosphere 
and examples on the young, susceptible mind of 
her boy. 

Conde joined his sister-in-law at Paris after she 
had taken up her abode at his hotel. The younger 
brother deeply resented the elder's treatment of 
his wife. 

But Antoine now threw off all disguises, and 
leagued himself with the famous Triumvirate, com- 
posed of the constable, Montmorency, the duke of 
Guise, and the marshal St. Andre, who had com- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 159 

bined to crush the great Huguenot party in the 
kingdom. . ' 

On Palm-Sunday the king of Navarre signalized 
his return to Catholicism by a solemn parade to 
mass through the streets of Paris. This was de- 
signed to be the crowning public act of his new 
religious adhesion, and Antoine had always de- 
lighted in showy pageants and processions. 

Nothing was omitted which would be likely to 
impress the beholders. The gray-haired Mont- 
morency, the friend and companion of Francis I. 
in those old, boyish days at Amboise, sur- 
rounded by a staff of valiant officers, rode in ad- 
vance of the grand procession, saluting the vast 
multitudes with these words : " My friends, thank 
God for having rescued you from mighty woes, in 
sending to your aid the king of Navarre. Behold 
the union which subsists between him and the 
duke of Guise ! " 

With such imposing ceremonies Antoine's re- 
turn to the old faith was celebrated. 

Catharine de Medici was, meanwhile, nearly dis- 
tracted at the course of events. She saw the first 
prince of the blood in league with the hated 
Guises, and completely subverted by their in- 
fluence. They had beaten her at her own game. 
They had destroyed the balance of power, and 
she had only to look forward to the old miseries 
and humiliations from which her son's death had 
for a time released her. 

The Lorraine-Guises went their old way of inso- 



1 60 The J^rotestant Queen of Navarre, 

lent defiance. The duke, at the invitation of 
Antoine, entered Paris at the head of three thou- 
sand troops. 

The Triumvirate now held counsels in the very- 
palace of the sovereign. The fact that the regent 
was not admitted to these affords startling proof 
of the power and presumption to which the dis- 
affected party had attained. A rumor soon got 
abroad that extreme measures against the two 
queens were now being discussed at the secret 
conclaves. 

Bent on knowing the worst, Catharine caused a 
tube to be inserted between the wall and tapestry 
where the council assembled with closed doors. 
In the chamber above she stationed herself with 
her ear at the tube. This attitude was so charac- 
teristic of the nature and policy of Catharine de 
Medici that one pauses a moment before the his- 
toric picture. Were great nations ever ruled by 
tricks and eavesdroppings like these ? 

But her plan served Catharine's ends for that 
time. She overheard the various treasonable sug- 
gestions around the council-board. She listened, 
with a shudder of horror, to the proposal of the 
marshal, St. Andre, that her person should be 
seized and secretly thrown into the Seine ! 

The king of Navarre, whose base associations 
had not wholly destroyed his native honor, strong- 
ly opposed this atrocious scheme. It is doubtful 
whether the bold, reckless soldier was himself 
really in earnest ; but his proposal shook Cath- 




The Cardinal of Lorraine greeting the King of Navarre 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 163 

arine's strong nerves, and she hastily retired with 
the young king to Fontainebleau. 

Jeanne d'Albret, meanwhile, was left alone, ill 
and heart-broken, in the capital, exposed to the 
machinations of her enemies. They worked with 
tireless energy, and her life was in serious jeop- 
ardy. It was actually proposed at one of the 
councils to arrest and hold the sovereign of Na- 
varre a State prisoner in one of the fortresses of 
France. Chautonnay, the Spanish embassador, 
was, as usual, at the bottom of this fresh infamy. 
But the worst has yet to be told : Antoine actually 
gave his consent to the proposal ! 

The cardinal of Lorraine was filled with such 
exultation at this crowning proof of Antoine's de- 
moralization that he grasped the king of Navarre's 
hand, exclaiming, " An act, monseigneur, worthy of 
you ! God will give you a good life and a long one ! " 

The warrant was actually made out for Jeanne's 
arrest ; but, while the council debated upon the 
measures they should take to insure the success 
of their infamous scheme, she was secretly in- 
formed of her peril. She listened calmly, but 
from that hour all faith in her husband's affection 
and honor died in the soul of Jeanne d'Albret. 

The situation aroused the drooping soul of the 
queen. It was high time her dauntless nature 
should awake. Her first step was to inform 
Conde of her danger. Great must have been the 
indignation of that gallant heart when he learned 
of his brother's infamy. 



1 64 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

The secret soon got abroad. The Huguenots 
roused themselves instantly on learning the danger 
of the queen, and assembled in vast and threaten- 
ing numbers before Conde's hotel, and gave Jeanne 
courage to once more demand permission to de- 
part for Beam. 

It seems strange enough to read with our mod- 
ern ideas the history of those old times — not so 
very old either, hardly more than three centuries 
ago. Here was the sovereign of an independent 
realm unable to return to her own dominions 
without the assent of the French court ! 

It is gratifying to learn that Antoine did at this 
juncture exhibit some faint symptoms of remorse, 
but his better feelings were now stifled by the sur- 
rounding influences. 

It was, however, thought hazardous, after the 
threatening demonstrations of the Huguenots, to 
attempt to arrest Jeanne d'Albret in the capital, 
and her enemies decided to permit her departure 
in peace, and execute their designs in her hus- 
band's town of Vendome, where she was certain to 
stop on her journey homeward. They learned 
their mistake when it was too late to repair it. 

Jeanne's inborn courage revived when she was 
once more out of an air thick with conspiracies. 
Every Huguenot in France was the friend of the 
queen of Navarre, and Conde, their idolized lead- 
er, held possession of Paris with thousands of his 
brave soldiers. At a sign from him they would all 
rally to her aid. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 165 

Before she left the capital Jeanne had a last in- 
terview with her son, who was now at St. Germain 
with his tutor, a creature of the Spanish faction, 
appointed by his father. The removal of the 
professors chosen by herself for the education 
of her son had been another of the cruel 
wrongs to which Jeanne had been compelled to 
submit. 

The prince adored his mother ; he was deeply 
grieved at parting with her. He was old enough 
now to comprehend and resent the treatment 
which she received from his father. Mother and 
son wept bitter tears together. Jeanne clasped her 
boy in her arms, and made him promise never to 
forget her counsels. At last she calmed herself, 
and, taking his hand, she tenderly and solemnly 
forbade his attending mass, adding — and with a 
woman like Jeanne d'Albret this was no vain threat 
— that if he disobeyed her commands she would 
disinherit him and disown him. 

The following day the queen took leave of her 
husband. It must have been a painful interview 
for both. Despite his cruelties, the love which 
had brightened her early marriage years still glowed 
in the heart of the wife. With all her passion and 
eloquence, Jeanne for the last time besought her 
husband to return to her and the service of Cath- 
arine de Medici. 

Antoine's replies did not re-assure his wife, 
while his demeanor was hard and sullen. Proba- 
bly the queen's enemies had taken special care to 



1 66 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

prejudice his mind before this interview. When 
the husband and wife separated that day they had 
looked for the last time upon each other ! 

The queen of Navarre left Paris accompanied 
by her young daughter, surrounded with an im- 
posing train of horsemen. She reached Vendome 
without a suspicion of the dangers which awaited 
her there. 

The king of Navarre had sent secret orders to 
the town authorities that his wife must not be al- 
lowed to proceed on her journey. But the secret 
of her intended arrest in some way got abroad. 
Her friends were on the watch ; it was probably 
with their connivance that a party of fierce sol- 
diery stopped at the town of Vendome after Jeanne 
had entered it. The men were on their way to 
that very Orleans where, not long ago, the beloved 
Huguenot leader had been sentenced to die on the 
scaffold. 

They made terrible havoc on every side, pillag- 
ing the houses, slaughtering those who opposed 
them, and sacking the cathedral. In those old 
years war was carried on with a pitiless barbarity 
of which, happily, we cannot now conceive. 

Sick in body,* prostrated in mind, Jeanne seems 
to have been at this time incapable of exertion ; 
but the marauders did not molest her, and it was, 
doubtless, owing to their advent at this juncture 
that she departed unharmed from her husband's 
home. 

Other perils awaited the sick, hunted woman. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 167 

Worn and harassed, she was compelled to travel by 
slow stages. Her enemies were on her track, and 
at last, thoroughly aroused to this fact, she sent 
secret orders to her faithful barons, d'Arros and 
d'Audaux, to meet her on the banks of the Ga- 
ronne with a force powerful enough to guard her 
retreat into Beam. 

One can dimly imagine the sad thoughts which 
pressed upon the brave woman's soul as she kept 
painfully on her way to her home among the 
Pyrenees. She had left it with such hope and 
pride in the pleasant midsummer days. By her 
side then rode her noble boy, and her sweet- faced 
little girl. She was coming back now with only 
one of these, a broken-hearted wife flying before 
the fierce pursuers whom her husband had set on 
her track. Only out of his dominions was there rest 
or safety for the wife of Antoine Bourbon. 

All the sorrows which in this last year had torn 
her heart must have arisen before Jeanne d'Albret 
in her perilous flight through Southern France. 
It was not to be her last one. 

At Caumont, where she lay exhausted on her 
sick bed, she learned that Montluc, the raging de- 
stroyer of the Huguenots, was on her path. The 
sick woman rose at once from her bed, and with 
indomitable courage took horse for the frontier. 

The brave seneschal of Beam had promptly re- 
sponded to the call of his sovereign. As she flew 
with slender escort toward the barriers, eight hun- 
dred soldiers on swift march, headed by the gallant 
11 



1 68 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

d'Audaux, met their flying queen, and as the troops 
closed joyfully around her they heard the blasts 
of the fiery Montluc's bugles ringing in the dis- 
tant hill-pass ; but they blew too late. The queen 
was safe now across the frontiers. Under the 
banners of Navarre, in the beautiful castle of Pau, 
the home of Marguerite d'Angouleme, her poor, 
hunted child could rest at last. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 169 



CHAPTER VIII. 

WHEN Jeanne d'Albret passed once more 
over the threshold of the palace of Pau and 
sat down under the banners of her ancestors she 
was a changed woman. 

The devoted wife, the proud and loving mother, 
who had gone out from her realm full of visions 
of future greatness and glory for herself and her 
children, had not now come back for peace and 
rest to the home of her fathers. Instead, there 
returned to it a woman in whom the crudest 
wrongs and the sharpest perils had developed a 
strength, a dauntless courage, an immutable reso- 
lution, which challenged the unwilling admira- 
tion of the enemies who were bent on crushing 
her. 

Free to act for herself, the queen of Navarre 
was not long in giving proofs of the change which 
her sojourn in France had wrought in her. Her 
health was seriously shaken by the trials she had 
undergone ; but she gave herself little rest. As 
soon as possible she sent the count of Grammont 
to Conde at the head of an army of six thousand 
troops," old and choice veterans, seasoned in many 
a Spanish campaign." 

Antoine was transported with fury when he 
learned of the reinforcements which his wife had 



1 70 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

sent to the aid of his brother, but her escape for- 
tunately placed her beyond the reach of her 
husband's wrath. 

Meanwhile the Guises got wind of Catharine's 
secret intention to leave the court and place her- 
self and her son under the protection of Conde 
at Orleans. They took measures, with their usual 
promptness, to thwart the queen-mother's project. 
It struck at the very foundations of their hardly 
won power. They actually compelled her and the 
young king to leave Fontainebleau and repair to 
Paris. This was one of those happy strokes of 
policy which nothing less than the audacity of the 
Guises could have accomplished. 

It was like Catharine, although secretly shaken 
with consternacion and rage, to act her part at 
this time with the gracious affability which never 
deserted her. True to herself, she affected the 
utmost acquiescence in all the schemes of Antoine 
and the Guises ; but she constantly sent the most 
importunate entreaties to Conde; she commanded 
him, in words which could not fail to touch the 
heart of the brave leader and every soldier in his 
army, to " take arms for the defense of the mother 
and her children." 

Conde gallantly obeyed her mandate, and took 
the field with a force equal to his enemies. There 
is not space in this brief history to tell the story 
of the dazzling victories which followed the path of 
the Huguenot armies. Town after town opened its 
gates to their summons, while their rapid marches 



the Mother of the Bourbons. ij I 

and their signal successes struck terror into the 
hearts of their enemies. Every province of France 
was filled with the havoc and misery of civil war. 

The queen of Navarre had been received on 
her return with rapture by her subjects. The 
sight of her noble, beloved face, the memory of 
the dreadful perils out of which her escape seemed 
a miracle, struck the imaginations and awakened 
the old passionate loyalty of the Bearnoise. 

She returned, too, surrounded by a troop of val- 
iant men-at-arms, amid the welcoming plaudits 
of her people ; these, like their sovereign, were fer- 
vently attached to the Reformed faith. After her 
triumphal entry into Pau with the royal banners 
of Navarre and Beam waving securely over her, 
she slowly regained her health. But her position, 
and the perils which menaced her, might well have 
daunted a courage lofty as her own. Alone, with- 
out a single friend on whose wisdom and support 
she could at this time rely; her husband changed 
into her bitterest foe ; her only son, the heir of her 
throne, torn from her arms ; her small kingdom, ly- 
ing between hostile armies, impatiently awaiting 
the signal of their leaders to overrun it and hurl 
her from her throne ; the most powerful monarch 
of the world, her malignant enemy, secretly plotting 
against her life; all her maternal relatives of the 
house of Valois more or less the open or concealed 
foe of the daughter of Marguerite d'Angouleme, it 
seemed as though the most dauntless soul must have 
succumbed before the appalling dangers which 



172 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

confronted her. But Jeanne d'Albret believed in 
her heart of hearts that her cause was the cause of 
God. This conviction nerved the lonely, friend- 
less, persecuted woman for the great work which 
lay before her, and to which she now rallied all 
the energies of her powerful intellect and in- 
domitable will. She who never doubted that 
One was on her side mightier than all the armies 
of Europe, could not be daunted by any pow- 
ers which human might and malice could array 
against her. 

The pages of modern history glow with stories 
of womanly sacrifice and heroism, yet in all those 
shining records there is no sadder, loftier figure 
than this last queen of Navarre, this sole Protest- 
ant sovereign of the line of Bourbon, this great 
mother of that bad race which, despite all its glory 
and splendor, brought on France that awful day of 
reckoning, that long night of terror and wretched- 
ness, the French Revolution ! Look at this 
woman's figure a moment as it stands in bold re- 
lief in the meridian splendor of the sixteenth cent- 
ury. She knew better than anybody else what 
dangers surrounded her on every hand, knew that 
just outside the narrow boundaries of her kingdom 
captivity or death in a thousand dreaded forms 
awaited her. Yet this knowledge never swayed her 
in a single resolution. Her purpose once formed, 
she went as promptly and fearlessly about its exe- 
cution as though the monarchs of Europe were no 
more to her than the provincial governors were to 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 73 

the Roman emperors when the world was at their 
feet. 

She introduced the Reformed ritual throughout 
her dominions, she reinforced her garrisons with 
thousands of soldiers, strengthened all her fortifi- 
cations, planted new artillery on their walls, and 
placed trusty commanders at all the important 
posts. If the enemy came he would not find the 
little mountain kingdom unprepared to meet him. 

When Antoine learned of the vast scale on 
which his wife was preparing for war, his pro- 
found amazement actually overcame his indigna- 
tion. He had never been able to comprehend 
the greatness of the soul of the woman he had 
taken to wife, and this splendid manifestation of 
her enthusiasm and courage fairly overwhelmed 
him. He seemed for a while like a man dazed 
and incapable of action, but at last the admoni- 
tions of the nuncio aroused him ; he would have 
at once proceeded to declare war against his wife 
if between them had not stood in solid victorious 
phalanx the army of the Huguenots. 

Conde, too, had just concluded a treaty of more 
consequence than many a hard-won battle field. 
The young queen of England, Elizabeth Tudor, 
had entered into a league, offensive and defensive, 
with the great Huguenot leader, and pledged her 
powerful succor to the qeeen of Navarre. 

It should always be borne in mind that a fear 
of English soldiers pouring down upon the south- 
ern provinces of France, and renewing, in the 



1 74 The Protestant Queeii of Navarre, 

midst of civil war, the old battle scenes of Crecy 
and Agincourt, alone kept the legions of Philip 
and the army of Guise from swarming across the 
frontiers of Beam. 

Chafing at his powerlessness at this time, An- 
toine found himself reduced to the pitiful expedi- 
ent of sending his secretary, Boulogne, on a secret 
and treacherous mission into the territories of 
Navarre, where the envoy was to employ every 
weapon of intrigue, persuasion, menace, and bribery 
against the queen. 

He was to protest in Antoine's name against the 
recent religious innovations ; he was especially 
instructed to leave no means untried in order to 
gain over to his master's side the most powerful 
of the queen's subjects ; he was to remove, as soon 
as feasible, every Protestant officer from his post ; 
and if all these measures failed, the envoy was, in 
the last resort, to proceed to the atrocious one of 
summoning into Beam the troops which had so 
lately pursued the flying sovereign to her own 
frontiers. 

But Boulogne was not equal to the difficult 
and dangerous mission imposed on him. Had he 
been he would hardly have set out for it, as he 
did, elated with importance, and without a suspi- 
cion that private intimations of his real object had 
already been conveyed to the queen of Navarre. 
The crest-fallen envoy was arrested on his en- 
trance into Beam ; his private papers were seized, 
and conveyed to the sovereign at the capital, The 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 7 5 

secret instructions completely revealed the char- 
acter of Boulogne's mission, and gave her a fresh 
proof of her husband's bitterness toward herself. 
Her indignation Was extreme, and its full weight 
fell on Boulogne, who had lent himself to this 
shameful plot for the overthrow of her authority. 

Jeanne committed the discomfited envoy a 
close prisoner to the charge of her old friend, the 
Baron d'Arros, and he was held in strict custody 
until the death of his master, the king of Navarre. 

Compelled to regard her husband as her im- 
placable foe, Jeanne still paid the father of her 
children the utmost outward respect. His name 
was always joined with hers in the liturgy daily 
recited before her, and she even sent a remon- 
strance to the Reformed ministers when they ceased 
to mention Antoine in their public services. The 
powerful intercession proved in this case of no 
avail. The king's shameful conduct had thorough- 
ly alienated the Protestant leaders. They refused 
to repeat his name in their prayers, although they 
treated his wife's request with the deference due 
to her character and rank. 

But a change was at hand. The victories of 
the Huguenots, the league with Elizabeth, the 
miseries of France under the long, civil wars, at 
last compelled the government to make some ad- 
vances toward the powerful party of the Hu- 
guenots. 

The forced return of Catharine de Medici to 
Paris had profoundly impressed her with the 



1/6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

power and craft of the Guise party. In the capital 
she was surrounded by the Catholics ; while their 
leaders, Antoine and the Guises, made a point of 
showing her on every occasion the most gratify- 
ing homage. 

Reassured by their submissiveness to herself 
and the tranquillity around her, Catharine finally 
gave her adhesion to the faith of her fathers. It 
was not likely she had ever really swerved from 
it ; her tastes, her habits, could never have in- 
clined her to the simple, austere faith of the Puri- 
tans, however motives of policy may have influ- 
enced her attitude. She attempted to soften, 
explain away, and deny all the glaring inconsisten- 
cies between her past and present conduct. The 
qualities of Catharine's mind admirably fitted her 
to succeed in this peculiar field, and no scruples 
of conscience or honor were ever allowed to inter- 
fere with her interests. 

There were her letters to Conde, it is true ; her 
eloquent appeals to the prince to hasten to the 
deliverance of herself and her children. Cath- 
arine could not disavow her own words ; but she 
unblushingly denied the only interpretation which 
could be placed on them, and glossed over their 
plain meaning with explanations which suited her 
change of attitude toward the two great parties. 

It was at last settled that an interview should 
take place at Tours between Catharine and Conde, 
and that in the presence of the king of Navarre 
the queen-mother should make proposals for peace. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 177 

And now the long, secret enmity which Catharine 
de Medici had cherished for the cousin of her 
husband could drop its mask. 

This bitterness must have had its roots in radi- 
cal antagonism of character, and probably dated 
far back in the old gay days at the Louvre. 
Where and when her dislike commenced, perhaps 
Catharine herself could not have told. 

When the Italian girl came to wed the French 
prince, who afterward set the crown of France on 
her head, and who had been the intended husband 
of Jeanne d'Albret, the latter was only five years 
old, and Catharine could not have felt any jeal- 
ousy toward the child she had supplanted. But 
as that child developed into womanhood, and the 
two were brought into intimate relations, the pene- 
trating genius, the honest, outspoken nature of 
Jeanne d'Albret, annoyed and offended the subtle 
Italian. 

Catharine disliked what was utterly beyond her 
comprehension. She could not conceive of a 
nature so entirely opposed to her own, and she 
probably had an uncomfortable instinct, that how- 
ever her arts, her tact, and management might 
impose upon others, here was one whose unerring 
glance could not be deceived. Through all fine- 
ly-spun disguises of speech and manner Jeanne 
dAlbret pierced straight to the real motives which 
actuated Catharine de Medici. 

She had at length begun to feel that of all the 
men and women in the world, the queen of Na- 



1 78 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

varre was the only person on whom her arts would 
be exerted in vain. This conviction, while it 
paid Jeanne's penetration the highest compliment, 
was enough to secure for her the steady hatred of 
the Italian woman, a hatred which was destined 
to darken the rest of the queen of Navarre's life. 

No doubt Jeanne aggravated her wily foe by 
her plain speaking, by coolly unvailing her sophis- 
tries to her face, and by that unconciliatory man- 
ner which was at times the great woman's greatest 
fault. 

Hitherto the interests of the queens had seemed 
more or less identical. Catharine had now thrown 
in her lot with the Guises, and felt that the 
time had come when she could afford to show 
something of her real feeling toward the queen 
of Navarre. 

Catharine's consciousness of the contempt which 
Jeanne must feel for her sudden change of policy 
and religion, and the contrast which the unswerv- 
ing rectitude of the one woman afforded to the tack- 
ing and veering of the other, no doubt forced itself 
disagreeably enough on the queen-mother, and 
inflamed her resentment. She had had to humili- 
ate herself; to eat her own words; and she prob- 
ably had a galling consciousness that the leaders 
on either side were not deceived, however it might 
suit one party to accept her interpretations of her 
late conduct. 

Catharine now addressed the queen of Navarre 
in haughty terms, admonishing her to use the pow- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 79 

erful influence which she was known to possess 
over her husband's brother to induce him to ac- 
cept the terms which would be laid before him in 
the approaching interview at Tours. 

Jeanne was not intimidated by the high tones. 
She calmly declined to use her good offices with 
Conde at this juncture. She was not a woman 
easily alarmed ; she had the most settled distrust 
of the party then dominant at Paris, and she de- 
spised, with all the strength of a true and lofty 
soul, the queen-mother's duplicity and falsehood. 
Jeanne's reply was respectful but cold. She 
avowed herself incapable of influencing the con- 
duct of her brother-in-law, and, therefore, declined 
to interfere in the projected interview. The 
mother's heart had been cruelly wrung at this 
time, and the sense of all she had suffered prob- 
ably had its weight in her refusal to intercede with 
Conde. 

The prince of Navarre had been ill with small 
pox at St. Germain. His life had been despaired 
of. Through all his long, dangerous sickness the 
boy had called piteously for his mother. As soon 
as she learned of his illness she sent earnest en- 
treaties that he might be restored to her. But his 
father and Catharine knew too well the value of 
that priceless hostage to deliver the sick boy to 
his mother's care. 

Finding that her agonized entreaties availed 
nothing, Jeanne implored that her son might be 
committed to the charge of her friend, Renee, 



180 The Protestant Queen of Navarre •, 

daughter of Louis XII., and duchess of Ferrara. 
The princess on the death of her husband had re- 
turned to France, and in the face of every opposi- 
tion professed the Reformed creed. She was the 
mother of the duchess of Guise, and it was owing 
to this fact that Jeanne's request was acceded to. 
But the mother's heart long burned with a cruel 
sense of the double wrong inflicted on her. 

The meeting between Catharine and Conde took 
place, as had been determined, in the presence of 
the king of Navarre. Nothing came of it. The 
prince would not accept the terms proposed, and 
could not be moved, although Antoine over- 
whelmed his brother with reproaches. Thus the 
two separated, never to meet again ; for the mis- 
erable part which Antoine Bourbon had played 
on the stage of the sixteenth century was almost 
ended now, and the wife he had so shamefully 
wronged was soon to be forever released from his 
persecutions. 

After the fruitless interview between the leaders, 
the Parliament published a decree declaring the 
Huguenot chieftains, and all who had assisted in 
the capture of the towns, guilty of high treason. 
Civil war again raged throughout France. 

The royal army opened the campaign against 
Conde by the capture of Poitiers on the ist day 
of August, 1562. The king of Navarre took arms, 
and on the 29th of the month the old town of 
Bourges surrendered to him and the duke of Guise. 
It seemed for a while as though victory had left 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 8 1 

the banners of the Huguenots, and settled upon 
those of their enemies. But at this crisis Eliz- 
abeth Tudor fulfilled her promise, and sent six 
thousand English troops to the help of the sorely 
pressed Conde. 

The royalists next besieged Rouen. Catharine 
brought the young king to the camp that his pres- 
ence and her own might animate the troops. Her 
gracious manners, her promises of large rewards 
on the capture of the city, inspired the soldiers 
with fresh ardor. But the very day before the 
city was carried, the king of Navarre, while stand- 
ing in the trenches surveying the ramparts, was 
struck in the left shoulder by a bullet. He was 
immediately carried to his quarters and his phy- 
sicians summoned, who in vain attempted to 
extract the ball. 

No especial alarm, however, was excited. The 
sick man's condition was not regarded as danger- 
ous. With repose of body and tranquillity of mind, 
all, it was believed, would go well with him. But 
the king's apartment was filled with the gay 
courtiers who had come in the train of Catharine. 
Among these Antoine was immensely popular. 
They crowded his apartments with boys and girls, 
who danced for his amusement to the sound of 
timbrels. The effect of all this on the strained, 
excitable nerves of the invalid was deadly. 

The next day Rouen fell. Antoine, restless 
with fever and carried away by the excitement of 
the occasion, insisted on making his triumphal 



1 82 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

entry into the town through a break in the walls. 
He was borne across the battered ramparts in a 
litter, and when he returned to his chamber, after 
the long exposure and excitement, he fainted quite 
away. 

Antoine's wound now began rapidly to inflame ; 
fever and delirium ensued ; but the mirth and 
revelry went on around his bedside, a ghastly sight 
enough to those who comprehended Antoine's real 
danger. 

At last a Huguenot, whose skill had retained 
him in the king of Navarre's service, was persuaded 
by the first physician to inform Antoine that his 
days were numbered. He heard the truth with 
calmness. He had always been a brave man ; he 
now ordered his chamber to be cleared of the 
noisy crowd which thronged it. 

That day he made his will. He left his horses 
to the duke of Guise, some bequests to his serv- 
ants, and the remainder of his vast wealth to his 
son. The dying father, surrounded by all the 
noise and havoc of war, could not foresee that the 
child was yet to reign over France with a glory 
that would eclipse all the grandeur of her ancient 
kings. 

The fair, noble face of the wife whom he 
had so cruelly wronged rose reproachfully before 
him in those hours when a clearer vision and 
tender heart had come to Antoine Bourbon. He 
wrote to Jeanne and commended their son to 
his mother's care, and he now avowed " that he 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 183 

began to understand the wiles by which he had 
been deceived." 

Before Catharine left Rouen she paid Antoine 
a visit. It was evening when the stately figure of 
the queen-mother entered the sick man's apart- 
ment. She found him in the utmost despond- 
ency. 

" My brother, you should command some one 
to read to you," said the soft voice of Catharine 
de Medici. 

" Madame," answered doubtfully the dying 
prince, "all around me are Huguenots." 

Catharine, never at a loss for an answer, replied : 
" Nevertheless they are your servants, monseign- 
eur, and will do as you command." 

She then went away. She could do nothing 
more for Antoine Bourbon. 

They read, at the king's request, the book of Job, 
and the attendant who had first informed him of 
his danger now faithfully set before Antoine the 
sins of his life, the evil counsels he had followed 
in these last years, and besought him to look to 
Christ for pardon. 

Memory and remorse had awakened at last the 
conscience of Antoine Bourbon. He declared 
himself once more a Huguenot, and this time, 
at least, he must have been sincere. If his life 
were spared he insisted that he would have the 
Reformed faith preached throughout France. 

The thought of his wife weighed heavily on his 

soul. He longed to see the woman whom a little 
12 



1 84 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

while ago he had hunted at peril of her life out 
of his dominions, and he even expressed disap- 
pointment that she had not set out to visit him in 
his extremity. 

He was restless with fever, the suffering from 
his wound was intense, and at last, craving any 
change, he insisted on going down the Seine to 
St. Maur. In the gray November twilight they 
carried the dying man from his chamber, and 
placed him on a boat which slowly passed down 
the Seine, but the motion greatly increased his 
sufferings. 

After a night of agony, as the dim morning 
broke, he faintly signed to Raphael de Mesieres 
to recite the prayers for the dying. The attendants 
knelt around him during that solemn service while 
the boat glided toward Andelis. 

Here the king was carried on shore. It was 
evident his last moments were at hand. Every- 
thing possible was done to alleviate his suffer- 
ings, His brother, the Cardinal Bourbon, sent a 
Jacobin monk to the bedside, who suddenly spoke 
there, "Jesus Christ died for you !" 

Antoine opened his eyes. " Who are you ? " he 
asked. " I die a Christian." 

Then Raphael, the faithful physician and friend, 
answered, " He is a good and worthy man, sire. 
Hear him.''' 

Antoine listened, his face growing sharp and 
white with the coming death. Afterward he spoke 
a few words to Raphael, then a strong convulsion 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 185 

seized him, and when it was past the life of 
Antoine Bourbon had passed also out into the 
unknown. 

Antoine was only forty-four years old. He had 
played his part poorly enough on the great stage 
where fate had set him, yet in his final judgment 
at the bar of history it must not be forgotten that 
this father of the Bourbon kings was in all his 
worst acts the tool of others. His high birth, his 
showy but superficial accomplishments, his shallow 
intellect and inordinate vanity, made him the pass- 
ive instrument on which craft and villainy could 
play what tune they pleased. 

At the time of her husband's death Jeanne 
d'Albret was only thirty-four years old. Seldom 
in so short a life has woman been called to endure 
such trials as hers. Yet when the courier dis- 
patched by his youngest brother, the Cardinal 
Bourbon, reached her with the tidings of Antoine's 
death, Jeanne only remembered that he was the 
husband of her youth, her first love, the broken 
idol of her pride and tenderness. She retired to 
her favorite castle of Orthex to hold the mourn- 
ing seclusion of a widowed queen. The grave 
made its long peace between them, and hallowed 
the memory of Antoine Bourbon in the heart 
of his wife. 

The tidings of his death had not found her 
wholly unprepared. She knew the base natures 
which surrounded him at the French court, knew, 
too, that they would not hesitate a moment to sac- 



1 86 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

rifice the life of their nominal chief when they 
discerned any symptom of wavering in his allegi- 
ance to their interests. She was always haunted 
by a doubt, whether the bullet from the walls of 
Rouen which cost her husband his life was fired 
by the hand of open enemy or false friend. 

But from her early widowhood she solemnly 
avowed her intention of never again entering into 
wedlock. She was a young woman still. The 
brilliant qualities of mind, the bloom and grace of 
person which had made the charm of her girlhood, 
were now in their ripe maturity. But the bitter 
disappointment of her marriage, the long outrages 
which her fine and noble nature had borne with 
silent heroism, made the prospect of a second 
marriage utterly distasteful to her. A dark and 
stormy future lay before her, but Jeanne d'Albret 
would walk through the beating tempests alone. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 187 



CHAPTER IX. 

GREAT national events followed each other 
rapidly when the queen of Navarre emerged 
from her mourning retirement and took her part in 
the world's affairs once more ; events which, despite 
their vast historic importance, can only be touched 
on at this time. 

There was the great battle of Dreux, in 1562, 
where the Huguenots met with a terrible reverse, 
and Conde himself was taken prisoner. A little 
later many of the towns which had yielded to his 
conquering arms returned to the French king, and 
all this increased the danger and dismay of the 
Protestants. 

Orleans alone stood firm. The threats of Guise, 
the plausible representations of Catharine, could 
not shake the old Huguenot city, which remem- 
bered that terrible autumn when it lay bound hand 
and foot under the iron rule of the Guises. 

The duke at last proceeded to extremities, and 
laid siege to the town. It was his last work. The 
great chieftain who had brought such glory and 
such dishonor to the cities of France met his death 
by the hand of the assassin Poltrot. The man 
was a Huguenot, well known to the great Admiral 
Coligny, who was at once accused of having in- 
stigated the murder. 



1 88 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

The admiral solemnly denied the charge. The 
brave and generous soldier, the hero and idol of 
the Huguenots, the beloved and honored friend of 
Jeanne d'Albret, could never, even in those dark 
times, have lent himself to the infamous crime 
which his enemies laid at his door. Yet it must 
be admitted, that when Poltrot accused the great 
leader of being accessory to the murder, Coligny's 
defense did not satisfy the kinsmen of Guise. 

The admiral honestly vowed that he had heard 
Poltrot's threats, and afterward dispatched him as 
a spy to the camp of Orleans, and the Huguenot 
chief did not disguise his joy at the death of his 
powerful enemy. The wife and the children of 
Guise never doubted the participation of Coligny 
in the crime of Poltrot, and, long years afterward, 
their hoarded vengeance exacted a terrible reck- 
oning. 

At last Catharine de Medici sat down in supreme 
power on the throne of St. Louis. The Italian 
woman now seemed to have reached the summit 
of human ambition. Bourbon and Guise, the great 
rivals of her power, had passed suddenly away. 
The heirs of both were still in their untried boy- 
hood. The Huguenots were vanquished, and 
Conde was a prisoner. The dark soul of the 
queen-mother, now regent of France in something 
more than the name, must have been full of secret 
exultation at this period. 

The old twice rejected suitor of the queen of 
Navarre was anxiously watching her beyond the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 1 89 

Pyrenees. The brooding, revengeful soul of Philip 
II. could only regard the daughter of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme with feelings of the bitterest hatred. 
Like her mother she was a heretic, and a more 
pronounced and determined one than the beauti- 
ful, accomplished sister of the French king. She 
had twice rejected his suit, and he longed to 
add that fragment of her heritage to the twenty- 
four realms which he already possessed. His 
conscience gave him no trouble. Philip never 
doubted that he was doing God service when he 
despoiled a heretic; and the Spanish king and his 
cabinet now resolved to try with the wife the 
same game which they had played so successfully 
with her husband. 

There were various reasons why Philip hesitated 
at this time to come to an open rupture with a 
daughter of the house of Valois. The great Neth- 
erland revolt grew daily more widespread and 
menacing. It was soon to task all the resources 
of his cabinet and treasury. He feared the court 
of France might rally to the support of the queen 
of Navarre in case he poured his armies across 
her frontiers, so Philip was obliged to resort to 
his old arts of intrigue and diplomacy with the 
most keen-sighted woman in Europe. He was 
to learn to his cost that it was one thing to deal 
with the vain, pompous Antoine Bourbon, and 
quite another to deal with his wife. 

In the third month of Jeanne d'Albret's widow- 
hood there appeared at the court of Pau an em- 



1 90 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

bassador appointed by Philip II. It suited him 
at this time to declare that the death of her hus- 
band rendered the queen an independent sover- 
eign. His ostensible mission was to negotiate a 
marriage between herself and Don Carlos, the heir 
of Spain ; or, if the queen preferred the suit, Don 
John, of Austria, the half-brother of Philip, was 
offered her. 

Neither of these suitors for the hand of the 
stately, intellectual woman of thirty-four had yet 
seen his eighteenth birthday ; while Don Carlos 
had already shown, by his fits of alternate sullen- 
ness and frenzy, that he inherited the gloomy mad- 
ness of his race. 

The queen of Navarre listened to the proposals 
of the Spanish envoy with more than her usual 
calm courtesy. They were kept a profound secret 
by all the parties concerned. Jeanne would have 
considered her dignity compromised by their pub- 
licity; while the Spanish court might have found 
it embarrassing to withdraw before the world 
from its advances toward the widow of Antoine 
Bourbon, advances which were only intended as 
a mask for its own designs. 

But her penetration was not for one moment de- 
ceived by this Spanish lure, and the high-souled 
woman must have secretly resented the insult to 
her dignity. She knew that Philip's offer wa<> 
prompted solely by his greed to get possession of 
her kingdom, and by his desire to prevent her from 
encouraging the growth of the new religion in her 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 191 

dominions; she, therefore, resolved to lose no 
time. The lonely woman proved herself more 
than a match for all the wiles of the dark and 
scheming monarch of Spain. 

While the Spanish envoy was pluming himself on 
the success of his plausible overtures with the queen 
of Navarre, Jeanne d'Albret suddenly launched 
from her palace of Pau her celebrated edict 
abolishing the worship of the Roman Catholics 
throughout her dominions, and declaring their es- 
tates confiscated to the crown. 

This was an act of almost superhuman courage. 
At the very moment when the edict was issued, the 
hostile armies of the fierce Montluc, full of relig- 
ious fury, hovered on the frontiers, scarcely held 
back by the French Government from pouring into 
Beam, and filling the land of the heretics with fire 
and slaughter. 

The king of Spain hungered to add the fair little 
kingdom of the Pyrenees to his dominions. Cath- 
arine de Medici had recently thrown her influence 
on the Catholic side, and was now possessed of 
sovereign power to enforce obedience to her com- 
mands. The young heir of Navarre was a hostage 
at her court. The pope at this time menaced 
Jeanne d'Albret with interdict and excommunica- 
tion. Yet in the teeth of all these dangers the 
queen went steadily forward. Her first edict had 
fallen like a thunderbolt into the finely-spun di- 
plomacy of the Spanish cabinet. It was speedily 
followed by a council warrant authorizing the re- 



192 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

moval of the shrines and images from the churches 
of Beam. 

The queen of Navarre never paused at half 
measures. Baron d'Audaux, who had covered 
her retreat into Beam, and who, as her senes- 
chal, had countersigned her edict, alarmed at the 
vigorous measures of his mistress, at length ven- 
tured to remonstrate with her. 

The queen listened calmly to his arguments, and 
then replied, in a tone which plainly showed that 
they had not moved her, that she was proving 
herself by all these measures a zealous servant 
of God. 

The old nobleman then faithfully laid before 
his sovereign the peril of incurring the anger of 
the king of France. 

At this plea the valiant heart of the queen 
roused itself and answered, " As for the king of 
France, monseigneur, what then ? Am I not an 
anointed queen and a sovereign likewise? " 

" Dare you venture upon such a comparison, 
niadame?" retorted the bluff old soldier, forget- 
ting in his heat the reverence which he owed his 
sovereign. " I could clear the frontier of your 
majesty's realm with a bound." 

At these words the queen of Navarre fastened 
her magnificent eyes on her seneschal. The light 
of her fearless spirit blazed in them. " 'Tis well, 
monseigneur" she said, with all the pride of a 
roused queen, " you had better, therefore, quit my 
dominions without delay." 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 193 

Truly they might break this woman's spirit, but 
they could not bend it ! How the interview ended 
history does not inform us. Perhaps the baron's 
apologies appeased his offended mistress. His old 
services must have plead eloquently in his behalf, 
and Jeanne's lofty and generous nature was inca- 
pable of harboring a feeling of revenge. 

In his desperation, the Spanish envoy, d'Escurra, 
who had gone to Paris to gain over Catharine to 
his intrigues, hurried back to Pau in order to in- 
duce the queen of Navarre to recall her severe 
measures, and to offer anew the bribe of the mad 
Don Carlos. 

Jeanne would gladly have avoided giving the 
powerful Philip fresh causes of offense, and she 
forced herself to grant his envoy another audience, 
distasteful as the whole thing must have been to 
her feelings. The most consummate art, the most 
skilled diplomacy, were brought to this interview, 
which lasted for five hours in the great hall of the 
castle of Pau. 

The queen compelled herself to be patient, to 
listen with courtesy, although her searching ques- 
tions often put the skilled courtier to his wits' ends. 
At last the bitterness of her long-repressed contempt 
at the artifices and subterfuge by which the envoy 
sought to allure her swept away her self-control ; 
her scorn leaped in fiery words to her lips, and 
she frankly avowed the resolutions which she had 
taken. True to herself, this queen of the little 
imperiled realm, guarded by the eternal Pyrenees, 



194 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

told the horrified nobleman that if the king of 
Spain, or any other sovereign of Europe, should cut 
off her head, and first slay her children before her 
eyes, she would suffer all sooner than deny the 
faith which she professed. 

Jeanne's honesty at last brought out the truth 
on his side. D'Escurra frankly told Jeanne "that 
neither Don Carlos nor his Uncle John would con- 
sent to marry a woman with a religion contrary to 
his own, though she were queen and mistress of 
the world itself." 

The queen now went farther. She revealed 
her full knowledge of the shameful deceit and 
falsehood which had been employed to delude the 
late king of Navarre, and of which, in his last 
hours, he had become conscious. 

The embarrassed d'Escurra avoided this sub- 
ject, and at last the interview terminated in a 
manner which greatly chagrined the Spanish no- 
bleman ; yet to the end he dreaded to come to 
open rupture with this proud and fearless woman. 
He saw that the interview had been fruitless, that 
Jeanne had outwitted the Spanish cabinet, and, 
burning with rage and mortification at his defeat, 
he withdrew from her presence only to urge his 
master to pour his legions into Navarre, and pun- 
ish its obdurate queen. 

Meanwhile, surrounded by plots and perils, 
Jeanne d'Albret went with characteristic energy 
on the course which she had marked out for her- 
self, welcoming the Reformed ministers into her 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 195 

territories, and settling them over the Churches. 
It seems unfortunate for the sixteenth century 
that the truest, noblest woman in all its annals 
should have had no broader theater on which 
to exercise her splendid talents for government 
than that little slice of territory cooped in among 
the Pyrenees. Had she been the first female sov- 
ereign of Europe instead of the fifth, she would 
have been one of the most powerful moving forces 
of her age. That ardent, heroic spirit would have 
exerted a vast influence on the religious and po- 
litical history of the sixteenth century. 

The great Englishwoman at this time, to quote 
Francis Bacon, "in the flower of her years," who 
sat on the British throne, seems in her intellectual 
qualities, in her comprehensive grasp of the great 
problems of the age, and her courage and skill in 
dealing with them, to have resembled the queen of 
Navarre; but in her whole moral nature — in truth- 
fulness, conscientiousness, and generous enthusi- 
asm for a great cause — the daughter of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme far outshone the daughter of Anne 
Boleyn. 

Catharine de Medici had learned with surprise 
and displeasure of the overturn of the Catholic 
religion in Beam, yet it is only fair to the regent 
to say, that at this time she did not forsake her 
husband's kinswoman, the princess to whom her 
son was suzerain. 

After the assassination of Guise, a treaty of peace 
had been concluded between Conde and the queen 



196 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

mother. The prince was now at the French court, 
and within its gay, luxurious atmosphere he seemed 
for a while to have forgotten the interests of which 
he was the trusted guardian, and which his sword 
had served so bravely. 

A taint of the vices of the Bourbon race, its 
love of ease, of pleasure, and dissipation, clung to 
the great chief of the Huguenots. Catharine de 
Medici threw the potent spells of her gay, cor- 
rupt court about him, as she did around many 
a brave warrior who listened to the siren song 
while the toils were woven and the net was spread. 

The provisions of the treaty were grudgingly 
fulfilled by the Catholics, and the splendid court, 
with its dazzling outside, its lovely women, its 
grand cavaliers, was seething underneath with the 
most passionate heartburnings and jealousies. And 
now a fresh peril, and one which had menaced her 
for a long time, awaited Jeanne d'Albret. 

Her introduction of the Reformed worship into 
Beam had drawn down the wrath of Rome on her 
head. Exhortations and threatenings, mild and 
harsh measures, had been vainly employed to arrest 
the queen in her course. Fear of the manner in 
which Catharine de Medici would regard any se- 
vere proceedings against one so nearly related to 
herself had, no doubt, delayed the bolt from the 
Vatican. 

It was launched at last. In October, 1563, the 
famous bull of excommunication was published at 
Rome. It included the queens of England and 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 197 

Navarre, the kings of Sweden and Denmark, the 
Protestant princes of Germany, and all the great 
leaders of the Huguenots in France. 

It was a moment of terrible peril for Jeanne of 
Navarre. The bull not only justified her old suit- 
or, Philip of Spain, for bursting in upon her do- 
minions with fire and sword, but declared all her. 
fair lands rightfully his own. It made this act of 
high-handed spoliation and robbery a religious 
crusade certain to procure the favor of God for 
all concerned in it. 

The menaced queen conducted herself with her 
usual courage and energy at this crisis. It was 
owing to her prudence that the thunders of the 
Vatican fell harmless around the borders of Beam. 
Not a single copy of the bull entered the princi- 
pality, while the calm,, resolute bearing of its sov- 
ereign imparted confidence to her subjects. 

But Jeanne well knew that her safety depended 
on the attitude of the French court. She appealed 
at once to the queen-regent for support and pro- 
tection. In the clear and forcible language of 
which she was mistress she representd to Cath- 
arine the vital danger to France of her Spanish 
son-in-law's taking possession of Beam. She laid 
before her the great indignity which had been done 
to the French king by citing, without his consent, 
a princess of the royal blood before the tribunal 
of the Inquisition; and, finally, she besought the 
queen's protection in the name of her dead ances- 
tors, who had lost the fairest portion of their herit- 



198 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

age for their loyalty to the throne of France. This 
appeal made a powerful impression on the mind of 
Catharine. Jeanne had prepared her arguments 
in a way which could not fail to recommend them- 
selves to the judgment and excite the fears of the 
queen-mother, and her response was all that could 
be desired. She warmly espoused the cause of 
her kinswoman. She assured her that the young 
king was prepared to defend the rights of his 
cousin against Spain and Rome, against both his 
brother-in-law and the pope. 

The queen-mother was too keen sighted not to 
perceive that her own interests were at stake in 
the issue of this interdict. If the pope could de- 
pose one anointed sovereign, and take possession 
of his territories, he could do so with another. 
Every ruler of Europe, Catholic or Protestant, was 
virtually interested in this bull, for it revived the 
vast pretensions of Gregory VII. 

Catharine herself had been obliged to make con- 
cessions to the powerful Huguenot party in the 
kingdom. She might be forced into yielding still 
further to its demands ; she knew how obnoxious 
all this would be to Spain and Rome, and the 
bolt from the Vatican might yet even be launched 
at herself. 

So the astute woman must have reasoned, and 
it was really her own interests, not affection for 
the queen of Navarre, which made her so warmly 
espouse Jeanne's cause. 

Catharine had also the sentiment of the age on 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 199 

her side. The most ardent champions of the pa- 
pacy felt that the pope's extreme measures could 
not be sanctioned. The time had gone by when 
his interdicts could strike terror into the hearts of 
nations, and all the monarchs of the sixteenth cen- 
tury utterly rejected the ancient claims of the pa- 
pacy to dispose of their territories. 

It was therefore in defense of her son's throne 
that Catharine now sided with the queen of Na- 
varre. She was very indignant that the Vatican 
had declared a crusade against Beam, and the 
French embassador was ordered to remonstrate 
strongly against it. 

He found the pope at first inexorable. He ab- 
solutely refused to annul the decree against the 
queen of Navarre, whose introduction of heresy in 
her dominions had greatly incensed and alarmed 
him ; and there was more than one stormy scene 
in the papal councils over the demands of the 
French minister. 

But the accomplished diplomat performed his 
delicate service with the most admirable temper 
and resolution. He never failed in the reverence 
due to the head of the Church ; but to his persua- 
sions he was obliged to add half-vailed threats. 

While so many of the subjects of the French 

king had gone over to the Reformed faith, the pope 

could not afford to offend him ; but he maintained 

his refusal to annul his first decree by a second. 

He agreed, however, that it should be practically 

of no effect. 
13 



200 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Jeanne d'Albret had obtained a signal victory. 
When the tidings reached Beam they held public 
rejoicings throughout the principality. 

The excommunication had failed, but Jeanne's 
powerful enemies at the papal and Spanish courts 
were not disheartened. A plot was now set on 
foot to declare her marriage with Antoine Bour- 
bon null and void on account of her pre-contract 
to the duke of Cleves. The cruel project to dis- 
grace the wife and disinherit her children was dis- 
cussed in the counsels of the Vatican. 

Again the queen of Navarre in her extremity 
was driven to her former resource, and applied for 
protection to her powerful kinsman, the king of 
France, and again Catharine came to the rescue. 
If the children of Antoine Bourbon were pro- 
nounced incapable of succeeding to the throne of 
France, the crown would, in case of failure of the 
three sickly Valois boys, descend to Conde and 
his children. 

Catharine perceived at once the vast power and 
influence which this claim would give to the Hu- 
guenot party. The young king sent a letter to 
Rome, drawn in very emphatic terms. It satis- 
fied the pope that the annulment of the marriage 
of Jeanne d'Albret would never be recognized in 
France. In both these instances Catharine de 
Medici had steadily espoused the cause of the 
queen of Navarre, although in doing so she had 
faithfully served her own interests. 

The two great perils which had threatened 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 201 

Jeanne had scarcely passed away before the storm 
broke again. Her subjects of lower Navarre rose 
in rebellion, while the Parliaments of Toulouse and 
Bordeaux published a decree which denied her 
sovereign rights over Beam, and declared the 
principality, like the rest of the domains of the 
house of Albret, subject to the controlling power of 
the king of France. 

Again the crown and throne of Jeanne were in 
jeopardy. At this time the brave woman resolved 
to appeal in person to her young suzerain and rel- 
ative. It was absolutely necessary that he should 
annul the offensive decrees of the Parliament, and 
recognize her distinct sovereignty over Beam. 

Jeanne determined to make a journey to the 
court in order to accomplish her purpose. Her 
decision is not surprising. Catharine and her son 
had lately given her the strongest proofs of their 
good-will, and no doubt she felt intensely grateful 
for their support. Then the only son, for whom 
the widowed mother's heart constantly yearned, 
and who had been so cruelly torn from her side, 
was at the French court. The thought of seeing 
him was enough to make the fearless woman de- 
cide on taking this journey. 

She placed the Count de Grammont at the head 
of her principality during her absence. His loyal- 
ty was above suspicion, and he was an old, stanch 
friend of the queen's. It was necessary that the 
governor of Beam should possess its sovereign's 
entire confidence as well as that of the French 



202 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

court. Jeanne was happy in her choice, as de 
Grammont's appointment met with the gracious 
approval of the queen-mother. Jeanne left Pau 
attended by a large train of ladies, ministers, and 
lawyers. She traveled slowly, and with the state 
becoming a queen. She had left Paris with a 
broken heart, fleeing for liberty and life from the 
gay French capital, to which she was now wel- 
comed with extravagant joy. 

The court was absent. The young king and his 
mother, with all the royal family, had started on 
that long, celebrated journey which, it is be- 
lieved, gave a new direction to the government of 
Charles IX., and finally culminated in the black 
night of St. Bartholomew. From the beginning 
the Huguenots had regarded this long court prog- 
ress with disfavor, and had refused to take part in 
it. Despite all Catharine's fair representations 
their instincts were not deceived. The ostensible 
reason which she gave for this journey was a visit 
to her two young daughters, the queen of Spain, 
and the duchess of Lorraine ; the latter had just 
borne a son, to whom his uncle, king Charles, 
was to stand godfather. No whisper of the dark 
league of Peronne, that dreadful compact for the 
extirpation of heresy, into which the Guises 
and Philip II. had entered, may have crept into 
the air, yet a feeling had penetrated the entire 
Protestant party in France that this royal jour- 
ney was undertaken to concert measures against 
them. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 203 

The Huguenot nobles at the capital, most of 
whom had refused to accompany the court, received 
the queen of Navarre with enthusiastic joy. 
Conde had gone with the royal family, but when 
they reached Vitry he was met by tidings of his 
wife's dangerous illness, and he hastened to her 
bedside. 

Jeanne's lawyers plead her suit with great skill 
and eloquence before the Parliament. There 
could be no question of her sovereign rights 
over Beam, and a sentence was pronounced in 
her favor. 

This sentence, of vital importance to the queen, 
as it involved her birthright, her realm, her title, 
her crown, now required only the signature of 
Charles IX. to set the matter at rest forever. 
Probably the queen had little doubt of obtaining 
this. The young king had already given her the 
strongest proofs of his good-will, and it had been 
arranged that the queen of Navarre should meet 
the court at Macon. 

Jeanne made her entry into the town before the 
arrival of the royal family from Dijon. She had 
not shown her usual tact in allowing so many Re- 
formed ministers in her train. It was greatly 
for her interest at this time to propitiate the royal 
family, and the Huguenot ministers would be likely 
to forget caution in zeal for their cause. 

Half of the inhabitants of Macon were Protes- 
tants. They received the queen of Navarre with 
transports of delight. They prayed her to mediate 



204 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

between themselves and their king. They prom- 
ised to aid her in any enterprise which she might 
undertake in behalf of the Reformed religion in 
France, a promise which, as loyal subjects of 
Charles IX., they hardly had a right to make to 
another sovereign. Jeanne's zeal for her religion 
got at this time the better of her caution. She 
accepted the addresses; she promised her interces- 
sion for the Huguenots ; she daily visited the church 
which they were building on the ramparts; and she 
allowed her ministers to preach with their usual 
fiery eloquence in public. All of these proceed- 
ings gave strong offense to the queen-mother. 

At last the court entered Macon, and once more 
Catharine de Medici and Jeanne d'Albret stood 
face to face. Between these two crowned women 
there was to be little more peace or truce until one 
of them was in her grave. 

Jeanne met with a very cold reception, both on 
the part of the young king and his mother. She 
was not prepared for this, and must have been 
greatly surprised and pained at the change of feel- 
ing manifested toward her, but the truth soon grew 
apparent. 

Catharine had been under evil influences since 
she left Paris. The cardinal of Lorraine had at 
last revealed to her the broad bearings of that 
monstrous compact at Peronne formed before the 
death of her husband. It is impossible to tell 
how much of the details of the plot the astute 
cardinal confided to the queen-mother, or how far 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 205 

she really intended to accept the hideous com- 
pact. But nobody can doubt that his arguments 
and statements exercised a powerful influence over 
her future conduct. 

A message from the king forbade Jeanne to 
allow her ministers to preach in public, and, in 
case they persisted, threatened to inflict on them a 
chastisement whose severity should be a warning 
to others. Even the queen's prayer that she might 
have divine service in her own household was 
sternly refused. 

All this was a most unfavorable augury for the 
success of the suit which had brought Jeanne from 
Beam. She would have left Macon at once had 
it not been for her son. 

The proud, delighted mother could at last feast 
her hungry eyes on the sight of her brave, gallant 
boy. Once more she held him to her heart, while 
amid her glad tears her kisses fell fast upon his 
young, open brow. 

The heir of Navarre was a son of whom any 
mother might well be proud. His early rugged 
training, amid the mountains of Beam, had served 
him well in the gay, enervating court of Catharine 
de Medici. 

What a contrast the eager, valiant boy must 
have offered to his pale, sickly cousins of Valois ! 
And that triumvirate of puny boys was all that 
stood between the son of Jeanne de Albret and the 
crown of France ! His mother knew this. Cath- 
arine de Medici knew it also. No wonder the 



20 6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Italian woman's dark eyes looked already with 
gloomy jealousy on the brave young beauty of the 
Bourbon. 

She had early divined something of his character 
and genius : she knew too well the weaknesses and 
vices of his race. She had woven the soft enchant- 
ments of her court around the soul of his father ; 
she had tried to do the same with the son. He 
led a gay, indolent life there with his young cous- 
ins of Valois. The noble studies which would 
have developed and braced his intellect, and in- 
spired his soul with lofty thoughts and ambitions, 
were steadily prohibited by Catharine de Medici. 

Henry was proficient in the modern languages. 
He had been carefully trained in all the graces 
and accomplishments which distinguished the 
cavaliers of the French court. His whole bearing 
and deportment became his high birth, his possible 
future. He excelled in every bodily sport, in 
dancing, and riding, and wrestling ; but the moth- 
er's eyes grew sad, as their tender, solemn beauty 
rested on her boy. 

She knew the vices of his race ; she saw his 
plastic years had not escaped the influences of that 
corrupt court in which her son's boyhood had been 
nurtured. He loved its gay life, its games of 
chance, its luxury and revelry. 

How her mother's heart must have ached to 
seize him and bear him away from all these dan- 
gers ! She heard with a shudder the coarse jests, 
the indecent songs, the constant oaths on the lips 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 207 

of his royal cousins of Valois. She knew he was 
daily compelled to attend mass with them. 

When Jeanne remonstrated with Catharine on 
the talk and scenes which her son and his young 
cousins daily witnessed in the queen-mother's 
antechamber, the latter only ridiculed what she 
called "prudish scruples ;" and when the queen of 
Navarre entreated that her child might at last be 
given to her care, Catharine positively refused the 
request. 

The prince was devotedly attached to his 
mother. He knew that she would have laid down 
her life for him ; he knew, too, all the anguish 
their forced separation caused her. It pained 
the brave and generous boy to see the grief with 
which his life at Catharine's court filled his 
mother, and he assured her that he remembered 
her teachings; and there must have been a flash 
in the eyes of the future hero of Ivry and Coutras 
when he added that " some day she should have 
full proof of it," a promise which not long after- 
ward the prince bravely fulfilled. 

Matters probably brightened with Jeanne's stay 
at court, for when it left Macon she accompanied 
it to Lyons, and while there the king confirmed 
the sentence of Parliament which established her 
supreme rights over Beam. 

After she had obtained this important conces- 
sion Jeanne resolved to leave the court. Her 
prolonged stay there with her Huguenot ministers 
might endanger her interests, and cause the young 



208 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

king to revoke his decision. With her penetration 
she could not fail to discern the leanings of the 
court toward the Catholic party, and to see that 
these must, under existing influences, continue dur- 
ing the remainder of the royal progress. 

Conde was not there to support his sister-in-law 
by his powerful presence. The great leader of 
the Huguenots, with his motherless children, was 
mourning his dead wife at the castle of Conde. 

Jeanne d'Albret must have parted with the 
court at Lyons without a suspicion of the dreadful 
fate which was impending over her. The king 
had given his aunt, as he always called his father's 
cousin, a strong proof of his good-will, for he might 
have reversed the sentence of the Parliament, and 
asserted his own sovereign rights over Beam. 

Jeanne's distrust and dislike of Catharine de 
Medici had probably deepened during her stay at 
court. There exists no proof, however, that Cath- 
arine was aware of the dark plot which was now 
ripening against the queen of Navarre. 

Catharine was at this period on the most cor- 
dial terms with her Spanish son-in-law. She had 
given her assent to the League of Peronne when 
it had been set before her with all the artful elo- 
quence of the cardinal of Lorraine ; but words 
never cost Catharine any thing. At this very time 
she was insisting to her embassador at Vienna 
that the period had arrived when some concession 
ought to be made to the Protestants of France, or 
even of Europe. 



the Mother of the Bourdons. 209 

That great historic interview between the 
French and Spanish courts was now about to 
open at Bayonne. Vast political interests were 
supposed to hang upon it. One of the great par- 
ties which divided France awaited it with secret 
exultation, and hopes of future triumph and ven- 
geance; the other with dark suspicion and fore- 
bodings. 

The ostensible purpose of this journey was the 
long-talked-of meeting between the queen of 
Spain and her mother ; but it was suspected that 
the French and Spanish courts meant to seize 
the occasion, and that they would in concert de- 
vise a programme of new severities toward their 
Protestant subjects. 

The leading statesmen of both countries were 
to be present at this interview. It was to take 
place on the borders of the two realms. The dis- 
cussions on affairs of state were to be carried on 
with the utmost secrecy. Every thing looked dark 
for the Huguenots, but their leaders were on the 
alert, and ready at the first signal of danger to 
spring to arms. 



2io The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 



CHAPTER X. 

PHILIP II. never forgot nor forgave. It was 
six years now since he had entered into the 
League of Peronne. During all this time the 
gloomy tyrant of Madrid had been nursing his 
vengeance against the woman who had twice re- 
jected his hand. 

Great was his account against her. She had of- 
fended his pride. She had resolutely maintained 
her rights to the kingdom which he and his ances- 
tors had coveted. Above all, she brought down on 
her head his most vindictive hatred by introduc- 
ing heresy throughout her dominions. 

Philip was slow to act until the moment was ripe. 
His dark genius delighted in laying his plots se- 
cretly and securely, and then springing them sud- 
denly upon their victims. Jeanne's relations with 
the Valois had long delayed his vengeance ; but 
Catharine's general acceptance of the Compact of 
Peronne made him believe that he might soon ex- 
ecute his atrocious project. 

The king of Spain wished also to open the dark 
drama of the extirpation of the heretics with a 
grand example. A crowned quepn, a princess of 
the royal house of Valois, was the noblest possible 
quarry to hunt down. 

The League of Peronne insisted that no tie of 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 2 1 1 

birth, parentage, or relationship should serve the 
heretic. Princes, nobles, and people should alike 
be destroyed on their refusal to recant, and no 
prayers or intercessions from any source were to 
avail in their behalf. 

The conspiracy against Jeanne d'Albret can be 
told in a few words. It consisted in pouring Span- 
ish troops into her territories, seizing her person, 
carrying her a captive to Madrid, and throwing her 
into the dungeons of the Inquisition ; while her 
children were to be confined in one of Philip's for- 
tresses during the trial and condemnation of their 
mother ! 

The whole thing seems incredible if it were not 
confirmed by evidence which places it beyond a 
doubt. Philip II. was the head and front of this 
conspiracy ; but the cardinal of Lorraine and sev- 
eral of the highest nobles of France, as well as 
one or two of her own subjects, joined in the plot. 
Its success seemed assured. When the queen left 
the court at Lyons, nobody who was in the secret 
could have doubted that she was a doomed woman. 

Jeanne and her train reached Vendome, her hus- 
band's old home, in safety. Here she was met by 
tidings of an alarming revolt among her subjects of 
Lower Navarre. She resolved to subdue it by her 
presence; she made a rapid journey back to Pau; 
she little suspected that she was now playing into 
the hands of her enemies. They had raised this 
insurrection in order to carry out their plots against 
her liberty and her life. 



2 1 2 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

At Macon Philip was holding the Cortes of Ar- 
ragon. A rumor had been purposely circulated 
that he was about to expel the last of the Moors, 
and to take command of the army in person. This 
rumor served as a plausible pretext for bringing 
up large bodies of soldiery near the frontier of 
Lower Navarre. When the plot was fully matured 
Philip was to send a detachment of his army over 
the Pyrenees. It was to go by steep mountain 
passes and secret tracks and form a junction with 
Montluc. He was the leader of the forces in the 
south of France, the bloody destroyer of the here- 
tics, the cruel, implacable foe of Jeanne d'Albret. 

Amid the general rising of her Catholic subjects 
a sudden advance was to be made upon Pau, 
where the queen was to be seized, and carried, a 
guarded prisoner, across the Pyrenees. When she 
lay a helpless captive in the dungeons of Madrid, 
Philip's dark soul could hug itself for joy; the 
woman who might have come to Madrid as his 
bride would be there at last as his victim ! 

The plot must have looked to the conspirators, 
and probably few were in the secret, as perfect as 
human malice and ingenuity could make it ; but it 
is a curious fact that in this case, as in many others, 
the miscarriage of a trifling incident thwarted the 
whole design. 

A traitor Bearnois was the trusted emissary 
between Jeanne's French and Spanish foes. A 
Romanist of the most bigoted type, his hatred of 
his sovereign amounted to frenzy, and he eagerly 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 213 

undertook his part in the conspiracy. He was 
intrusted with its full details, and Montluc dis- 
patched him across the Pyrenees to confer with 
the duke of Alva. 

Jeanne d'Albret might well tremble when the 
most cruel and bloodthirsty of Frenchmen, the 
most pitiless and implacable of Spaniards, had 
conspired to effect her ruin. The duke and Di- 
manche had frequent conferences, the result of 
which was that Alva sent the envoy to Macon to 
have an interview with the king. 

At Madrid Dimanche fell seriously ill. Sur- 
rounded by strangers, in the paroxysms of his 
agony the traitor piteously begged for a sight of 
one of his own countrymen. Vespier, a French- 
man, one of the queen of Spain's gentlemen in 
waiting, was touched by the appeal, and volun- 
teered his services to the sufferer. 

Contrary to every body's expectations Dimanche 
rallied. As he came out from the very shadow of 
death, and heard, in that strange land, the accents 
of his home, his gratitude to the man whom he 
regarded as his preserver knew no bounds. It is 
likely, too, that his mind was shaken by his long 
illness, and oppressed by the burden of his great 
secret. At all events he mysteriously hinted to 
Vespier that although he himself was too poor to 
repay his generous services, those who had sent 
him into Spain on his secret errand were mighty 
in rank and power, and could amply reward his 
benefactor. 



214 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

This speech, together with some of the dark al- 
lusions which had fallen from Dimanche in his de- 
lirium, awakened the suspicions of Vespier. He 
redoubled his attentions to the invalid, and the 
shrewd Frenchman used every possible device to 
draw from the sick man his secret. At last Di- 
manche in his confidence and gratitude made a 
clean breast of the whole plot. 

The Frenchman listened, mute with terror and 
horror, to the revelation. He heard Dimanche ex- 
ultingly declare that "in a few weeks the princess 
of Beam, with her children, would be in the power 
of the Inquisition ! " 

Vespier entreated that he might see the written 
instructions of the envoy. Dimanche was so im- 
prudent as to place his papers under the eyes of 
Vespier. 

There was no doubt now left of the existence of 
this infamous plot. Vespier was a born subject of 
the house of Albret. He had a generous soul. 
Roused by indignation and pity, he at once re- 
solved to spare no effort to rescue the widowed 
mother and her children from the peril that men- 
aced them. 

He acted promptly and courageously. The 
Abbe St. Etienne was now the grand almoner 
of the queen of Spain. Perhaps there was no one 
so dear to her in that long suite which had ac- 
companied her from France as her old tutor. 
Around him must have clustered a thousand 
memories of the gay, careless life at St. Germain; 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 215 

a life which, without doubt, she often sighed for 
amid all the wearisome grandeur of her Spanish 
home. 

Vespier went straight to St. Etienne. To him 
he revealed the dark secret which had just come 
into his possession. On the promptness and fidel- 
ity of the old tutor and the valet de chambre hung 
now the fate of the queen of Navarre and her 
children. 

The abbe saw that no time was to be lost. He 
at once sought an interview with his royal mis- 
tress, and confided to her the peril which menaced 
her kinswoman, and earnestly besought the young 
queen to arrest the dreadful fate which impended 
over one so nearly related to herself. 

Elizabeth of Valois had the tenderest affection 
for her kindred, and Jeanne of Navarre was not 
only her godmother, but had been brought up al- 
most as her elder sister. She herself could re- 
member the beautiful Marguerite of Valois, and 
she knew the devotion with which her grandfather, 
Francis I., had always regarded his sister. 

Elizabeth listened in horror to the recital of her 
old tutor. At his entreaties the tears poured over 
her fair young cheeks. " God forbid," she sobbed 
out, " that this wickedness shall come to pass ! " 

All her family affection aroused now, the queen 

of Spain did not hesitate a moment — even at the 

dreadful thought of incurring her husband's anger. 

She had good reason to know the power which her 

youth and beauty gave her over the redoubtable 
14 



2 1 6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Philip — a power enhanced, no doubt, by the mem- 
ory of his miserable marriage with his English 
wife, Mary Tudor — and she now solemnly resolved 
to save her cousin from the toils closing around 
her. 

She took her measures with promptness and 
skill. She wrote a letter in cipher to St. Sulpice, 
the French embassador, now with the court at 
Macon, acquainting him with the foul secret. She 
added a description of Dimanche's person, and 
she entreated St. Sulpice to inform the queen of 
Navarre of her peril. 

Elizabeth's courier rode with such haste that 
he reached Macon one day before Dimanche. 
He delivered the queen's letter. St. Sulpice, fore- 
warned, set a close watch upon the envoy's move- 
ments. By this means he learned that in a single 
day Dimanche had been admitted to three inter- 
views with the king in his private cabinet. 

St. Sulpice had had of late some suspicions 
of foul play, aroused by the massing of troops and 
the singular movements of the army on the front- 
iers. His worst fears were now confirmed, and 
he at once dispatched a messenger to Catharine de 
Medici with letters which revealed the whole plot. 
He forwarded by the same envoy tidings to the 
queen of Navarre which showed the extent of her 
danger. St. Sulpice entreated Jeanne to fly at once 
from her principality to Nerac, where she would 
be safe under the banners of her paramount lord, 
the king of France. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 217 

This advice, under the pressure of her imme- 
diate peril, seemed the best possible ; but the soul 
of Jeanne d'Albret proved equal to the dangers 
which encompassed her. She scorned to fly from 
her own dominions to the banners of France for 
safety. She set bravely to work to defend her 
kingdom. She visited her fortresses, one after 
another, penetrating even to the very borders of 
Spain. When she saw her realm fairly prepared to 
sustain a siege, she retired with her little daughter 
and her ladies to the strong castle of Navarreins. 
She compelled her enemies to respect while they 
hated her. She denounced in her own eloquent, 
fervid speech the cruel blow which Philip had in- 
tended to deal her, and which in her person was 
aimed against every sovereign of Europe ; and she 
demanded that condign punishment should be vis- 
ited on all concerned in this treachery. 

When the envoy of St. Sulpice arrived at Val- 
ence, where the French court was sojourning, 
Catharine at first refused to believe his disclosures. 
She insisted that, had any such plot existed, the 
queen of Spain would have written directly to her 
mother informing her of its details. 

Elizabeth, however, was the wife of Philip. She 
had probably gone as far as she dared in this mat- 
ter, and she could congratulate herself that she had 
saved her cousin from her husband's vengeance. 

No record, so far as I know, exists to prove that 
Philip ever expressed any displeasure at the con- 
duct of his young wife. He knew the strength of 



2 1 8 The Protestant Queen of Navarre^ 

her affection for her family, which he always in- 
sisted did her honor ; but the course which she 
had pursued would have brought any other head 
in Spain but that lovely one to the scaffold. 

Catharine's position was certainly a delicate 
one. When she was at last compelled to acknowl- 
edge the existence of the conspiracy against the 
queen of Navarre, she declined to investigate the 
matter. But she expressed the utmost amazement 
and horror at the whole proceeding. 

The queen-mother must have known that her 
powerful son-in-law was the prime mover in the 
plot, however carefully his share in it was dis- 
guised. Had the whole affair been brought to 
light the passions of both the great religious par- 
ties would have inflamed them to another of those 
civil wars Catharine was always employing all her 
arts to avert. She professed herself satisfied that 
the queen was safe in the strong fortress of Na- 
varreins from the malice of her enemies. 

In time Dimanche returned to Paris in disguise, 
and found shelter and protection with some of 
those engaged in the conspiracy ; probably the 
cardinal of Lorraine, whom Catharine dared not 
accuse, and the Bearnois escaped the punishment 
of his treachery. 

Jeanne's continued appeals to the French court 
for justice on her enemies were met at last by 
Catharine with characteristic ingenuity. She said 
that " the Protestant subjects of Charles IX. had 
been guilty of similar projects of violence toward 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 219 

himself, and she advised the queen of Navarre to 
imitate the example of his majesty, who freely for- 
gave the enemies it was not in his power to punish." 

So the matter ended ; but the failure to obtain 
any justice for herself at this time no doubt deep- 
ened the suspicions which Jeanne entertained of 
Catharine de Medici, and the mutual distrust of 
the queens constantly increased. 

Jeanne remained a long time at Navarreins. 
While within its walls she devised a new and 
liberal code of laws for her subjects. Its humane 
and enlightened spirit extorted the praise of her 
whole realm. The code remedied many old abuses, 
and relieved many oppressions; it still stands, her 
enduring monument, and keeps forever fresh the 
memory of the noble intellect and generous heart 
which devised it. These laws remained in force 
until the great tempest of the Revolution hurled 
the Bourbons from the throne of France. 

The royal family continued the journey, which 
was viewed with such deep suspicion by the Hu- 
guenots, and which was followed by such momen- 
tous results, that every detail possesses a curious 
interest and significance. 

The court made very slow progress. Terrible 
snow-storms through that winter of 1564 impeded 
its way. For several weeks the rivers of France 
were locked in ice. The vineyards and the olive 
groves were frozen, the public roads were im- 
passable by reason of the snow. The young 
king and his mother advanced as well as they 



220 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

could through the cold and storms. The ostensi- 
ble object of all this toil and hardship was, as 
we have seen, the interview to take place in the 
following summer at Bayonne in the territories 
of Jeanne d'Albret. The young queen of Spain, 
since her marriage had seen none of her family. 

The eyes of all Europe were watching intently 
this anticipated meeting between the French and 
Spanish courts. It was known that the greatest 
statesmen, the most renowned captains of both 
countries, would be present. But a dark whisper 
was in the air, and the belief was more and more 
taking possession of men's souls, that the very nat- 
ural cause assigned for the meeting was only a 
mask to hide the real one. 

It was whispered that a general massacre of the 
Protestant subjects of both countries had been 
resolved on, and that, in the intervals of the gor- 
geous fetes and pageants which were to celebrate 
the meeting, the details of this vast massacre were 
to be arranged between the trusted counselors of 
both cabinets. 

The bloody policy of the duke of Alva, who 
was to attend the queen of Spain on her journey 
to the frontier, was well known. The implacable 
hatred with which Philip and his council regarded 
heretics was no secret ; his horrible creed that no 
mercy should be shown them, that they should be 
hunted from the world with more savage cruelty 
than wild beasts, was also known by ail the Prot- 
estants of Europe ; hence a conjunction of the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 221 

great chiefs of the Catholic party in both realms 
could not fail to be regarded with foreboding 
and dismay. 

It was a significant fact, too, that the sovereign 
in whose territories the interview was to take 
place was not invited to be present. Catharine 
de Medici dreaded to meet at Bayonne the pene- 
tration of the keenest woman in Europe. 

The famous meeting took place there in June, 
1564. It is impossible, in so brief a history as 
the present, to more than glance at all the gor- 
geous splendor which filled those seventeen days 
at Bayonne. They seem literally robed in cloth 
of gold. 

The days of that old June fairly dazzle one's 
thought as they move past in the long procession 
of history. On the outside it is one vast scene of 
mirth, revels, and gorgeous splendor, such as be- 
long to some old Moorish romance. There were 
all manner of festivities, balls, tournaments, and 
masquerades. The young king, with his pale, hag- 
gard face, was there ; so were his two brothers, 
the princes of Valois; and there, also, was Margue- 
rite, the youngest of Catharine de Medici's daugh- 
ters and the fairest of them. She was in the first 
bloom of that wonderful beauty which even then 
shone supreme amid all the loveliness of her moth- 
er's and her sister's courts. 

The beautiful women, the magnificent courtiers, 
the belted warriors in the trains of both queens, 
added the luster of their presence to the sports. 



222 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Over all the glittering scene which filled the sleepy 
old frontier town shone the hot June sunlight. 
At night the summer stars came out, and looked 
down upon the vast concourse, and upon a scene 
which the world had never shown them before. 

The young prince of Navarre, now in his twelfth 
year, was present at the festivities from which his 
mother was excluded. 

Catharine de Medici had vainly tried to con- 
vince Jeanne d'Albret that maternal tenderness 
had alone prompted this visit ; but her own exclu- 
sion had awakened the queen of Navarre's sharp- 
est suspicions. 

The boyish beauty, the spirit and bearing of the 
prince, excited the admiration of both courts. The 
bright, healthy boy, whose childhood had been 
nurtured among the rugged mountains of Beam, 
and whose foster-mother had been a peasant, must 
have seemed to the Spaniards a strong contrast to 
his sickly, effeminate cousins of Valois. 

He was foremost at game or tilt ; while his gay 
spirits, and the zest with which he entered into all 
the life and amusements of the court, completely 
deceived Catharine as to his real character. She 
probably thought that he resembled his father, 
and so harmless did she regard him that she ad- 
mitted him to her private apartments when state 
affairs of great secresy and importance were under 
discussion. 

The queen of Navarre had been forced to per- 
mit her son to attend the interview between the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 223 

two courts, although she feared his presence might 
compromise his claims to his ancient heritage of 
upper Navarre. 

When Jeanne found that Catharine's mandate 
was not to be resisted, she provided the boy with 
a train becoming his birth. Among the Bearnois 
nobility which accompanied the prince to Bayonne 
were some of her most trusted counselors. She 
earnestly commanded him to be guided by their 
advice, as though she herself were speaking in 
their stead. 

A secret passage had been constructed leading 
from Catharine's apartments to those of her daugh- 
ter, the queen of Spain. During the last part of 
the sojourn at Bayonne, when the gayeties of the 
day were over, and the midnight looked down 
on the old town, the queen-mother went secretly 
through this passage to meet the Spanish council. 

There can be no doubt that at this conference 
a general massacre of the Huguenots was grave- 
ly discussed. The details of so stupendous a 
crime could not be easily settled, and there were 
wide differences of opinion between the French 
and Spanish counselors. Catharine herself was 
not prepared to act on the sanguinary advice of 
her son-in-law's cabinet ; she still talked, more or 
less of making concessions to the Huguenots. There 
is no doubt, however, that these conferences deeply 
impressed the woman, and that long afterward in 
a terrible crisis she acted on the advice of Alva 
and his colleagues, and the night of St, Barthol- 



224 The Protestant Qiteen of Navarre, 

oraew was the black outcome of all the gay splen- 
dor of Bayonne ! 

One day the duke and the prince of Navarre 
were in Catharine's apartments. The bright-faced, 
frolicsome boy was quick to learn and heed, and 
in their eager talk the two seemed to have quite 
overlooked his presence. But he heard the redoubt- 
able duke remark to Catharine, (one fancies how the 
cold eyes gleamed in the hard, lean, cruel face of 
of the Spanish nobleman as he spoke,) " the head 
of one salmon is worth a hundred frogs ! " 

Alva, with native cruelty, urged the queen-moth- 
er not to spare the noblest blood of her realm, to 
take condign vengeance on all heretics, and to 
exact from every nobleman in her kingdom, on 
peril of life and liberty, a profession of the Roman 
Catholic faith. 

Henry listened, startled and intent, to this con- 
versation. The boy of twelve took in its whole 
significance, and his young mind was greatly im- 
pressed by it. As soon as he left Catharine's 
apartment the prince repeated the talk he had 
overheard to Calignon, one of his mother's privy 
counselors, who instantly dispatched a messenger 
with the tidings to the queen of Navarre. 

Jeanne was at Pau, sick in body and mind, and 
full of forebodings, while the gorgeous revels from 
which she was arbitrarily excluded went on in her 
territories. 

Her son's report of the conversation between 
Catharine and Alva filled the queen with the ut- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 225 

most alarm. Without an instant's delay she sent 
tidings of the danger to the Huguenot chiefs. 
Their worst fears thus realized, they at once pre- 
pared for war. At the first signal they would 
have sprung to arms. But the festivities at Ba- 
yonne ended in peace. The beautiful young queen 
went back to her splendid home, her gloomy hus- 
band, and a few years later to her grave. 

It seems probable that the fears of the Hugue- 
nots led them, at this time, to exaggerate their 
immediate peril. Whatever the sanguinary talk 
might be in those midnight councils at Bayonne, 
Catharine was not prepared to act on it. The 
rapid spread of Protestantism in the low countries 
filled her with disquiet, and she seems to have 
been deliberating in her own mind whether it 
would not be the wisest policy to make greater 
concessions to the Huguenots throughout France. 
But incapable of a larger grasp of affairs, or of mor- 
al enthusiasm in any cause, her measures were 
always taken to meet the pressure of the moment ; 
she was swayed hither and thither from one party 
to the other, as her selfishness or her fears were in 
the ascendant. 

This, and no settled policy, either religious or 
political, was the key to Catharine's conduct. 
Meanwhile the alarm of the Huguenots was most 
natural. They knew the power and malice of 
their enemies. They saw the privileges which had 
been wrung from Catharine at the peace of 
Orleans gradually curtailed by later edicts. The 



226 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

peril which the queen of Navarre had barely es- 
caped, the efforts to establish the Inquisition in the 
south of France, the sinister influences constantly 
brought to bear on the mind of the queen-mother, 
all tended to keep alive the worst fears of the great 
Protestant party. 

Catharine, without, as we have seen, any settled 
line of policy, went her tortuous way for years ; 
deferring now to one party, now to the other, and 
losing the confidence of each. She believed she 
was acting with profound sagacity, while all the 
time her course was bearing straight to that night 
whose mistake and madness were to cover her name 
with eternal infamy. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 227 



CHAPTER XI. 

AFTER the festivities of Bayonne were over, 
the court repaired to Nerac, where the king 
and. his mother were received in state by the queen 
of Navarre. 

Catharine exerted every art to remove any re- 
sentment which Jeanne might feel at her exclusion 
from the royal interview that had just taken place 
on her own territories. 

Never had the queen-mother been more smiling 
and gracious ; while the young king, who probably 
had his lesson beforehand, overwhelmed his aunt 
with attentions. But all this condescension only 
served to increase Jeanne's distrust of the real feel- 
ing with which her powerful relatives regarded her. 

Charles was not so well practiced in the arts 
of courts as his mother ; he was constantly be- 
traying to Jeanne by some bitter jest, by some 
swift, angry flash of his wild, melancholy eyes, the 
hatred which had been inspired in his young soul 
toward the Huguenots. But, on the whole, the 
bearing of the court toward herself made Jeanne 
feel that it was an auspicious moment to prefer the 
request which she had so much at heart, and had 
so often vainly made before. She again entreated 
that her son might be permitted to remain at Beam 
under the control of his mother. 



228 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Again Catharine denied her petition. She knew 
too well the value of the young Bourbon as a hos- 
tage for the Huguenots, and was resolved to retain 
him in her power. 

Jeanne was at last forced to desperation by this 
long and cruel separation from her son ; she now 
determined at all hazards to rescue him from the 
corrupt influences of the court of Valois. It was 
a bold resolve. No one but a mother driven to 
bay would have dreamed of it ; no one but a su- 
premely brave woman would have dared to carry 
it out in the teeth of all the dangers which encom- 
passed her. 

Nobody suspected any secret design when the 
queen of Navarre announced her intention of ac- 
companying the court to Moulins. That progress 
was the last which Jeanne ever made with her 
Valois relatives. 

The terrible civil war which had raged in the 
south of France had left its marks on every side 
in demolished churches and ruined monasteries ; 
the sight of these aroused the utmost wrath in the 
young king's mind. With that mocking satire, of 
which the crowned boy, brought up deliberately 
by his mother in ignorance and idleness, was mas- 
ter, with his pale, haggard face growing fierce and 
menacing, he pointed out to Jeanne the havoc 
committed by his subjects of the new religion, 
and with bitter irony he contrasted these proofs 
of their real temper with the meek, submissive 
spirit which they professed. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 229 

The talk of Bayonne was evidently bearing fruit. 
After that journey, it is said, the queen of Na- 
varre always had forebodings of the bloody tragedy 
impending over France. 

Jeanne could not remain long in peace at Mou- 
lins ; a new trouble summoned her to Paris. Her 
brother-in-law, the cardinal of Bourbon, had as- 
serted his claims to the dominions he had made 
over to her at the time of her marriage with An- 
toine. He was the creature, as her husband had 
been, of the Guises and Spain. Instigated by her 
foes, he now wished to despoil his sister-in-law. 
They were determined that this woman should 
have no peace. But the Parliament again did her 
justice. A verdict, by an immense majority, was 
rendered in her favor, and the decision imme- 
diately confirmed by a council of state. 

An event of great importance occurred at this 
time, and one which could not fail to widen the 
gulf between Jeanne and the ardent Catholics. 
While she was in Paris a deputation of Huguenot 
ministers waited on the queen of Navarre, and be- 
sought her to abolish the Roman Catholic worship 
throughout the hereditary dominions of Albret. 

Read to-day, such a petition simply excites a 
smile ; but at the time it was offered the world 
had yet to grope its slow way through more than 
two centuries of bloodshed and persecution before 
it should reach the dawn of a new day of religious 
freedom — before the nations should accept and 
act on the sublime truth that each man has a 



230 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

right to worship God according to the dictates of 
his own conscience. 

Jeanne d'Albret was a woman whose heart and 
mind were vastly in advance of her age, and harsh 
measures were naturally repugnant to her humane 
and generous spirit. She had, however, in accord- 
ance with the simple, austere habits of the French 
Calvinists, thought it a duty to suppress the May 
games. These were dear, and deeply inwoven with 
the life and habits of the pleasure-loving people 
among the plains and valleys of the Pyrenees. A 
revolt had followed this interdiction of the old, 
favorite festival, and, as a natural consequence, all 
sorts of excesses and riots had followed. 

On these facts the Huguenot ministers based 
their petition. Their sovereign still retained a 
most vivid sense of the wrongs which Philip and 
the cabinet of Spain had meditated against her. 
She was a woman whom no threats or dangers 
could intimidate ; she was ready to give her en- 
emies a signal proof that she utterly disregarded 
their power and their vengeance. 

The reasoning of her ministers at last convinced 
Jeanne that the only security for her own life, or 
for the peace of her kingdom, was the suppression 
of the ancient faith ; the constant revolts of her 
disaffected subjects only confirmed the arguments 
of the ministers ; so Jeanne issued the arbitrary 
decree which abolished the Roman Catholic wor- 
ship throughout her borders. 

No doubt the queen alienated many loyal sub- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 231 

jects, and wounded many tender consciences, by 
this decree. Her enemies, however, had only 
themselves to thank for it. By their cruel and 
implacable hatred they had driven the queen into 
this act of retaliation ; and before one judges her 
conduct, it is necessary to bear in mind the cir- 
cumstances in which she was placed. 

The time had now come for Catharine de Me- 
dici and Jeanne d'Albret to measure their powers 
— the French woman's invincible courage and res- 
solution against the Italian's cunning and suspi- 
cion. This fencing-match of wits between the two 
was, sooner or later, inevitable ; yet it was forced 
upon Jeanne after every other measure had failed, 
and when maternal affection and foreboding had 
driven her to desperation. 

Her forced separation from her only son, the 
heir of her realm, must have seemed to Jeanne 
d'Albret the crudest of all the cruel wrongs of her 
life. But Catharine could not be moved by argu- 
ment or entreaty. Nothing but a settled convic- 
tion that it was for her own interest to detain the 
prince at court could have made the queen-mother 
persist in her refusal. 

It was a part of her policy never to give offense if 
she could avoid it, and she had plenty of reasons 
for desiring the good-will of the queen of Na- 
varre. Catharine had been her friend in some of 
her darkest hours, and it was owing to the same 
strong influence that Jeanne's marriage had not 

been annulled ; and it was the queen-mother's 
15 



232 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

hand which had waved back the fierce Spanish 
legions from the frontiers of Navarre. But its 
prince was the most precious hostage at the 
French court ; he was the center about which the 
great Protestant party would inevitably gather. In 
case of another civil war the Heir of the Bourbons 
would be the rallying-cry of their hosts. . 

The mother, too, must have constantly beheld 
the contrast between her own indolent, sickly triad 
of sons and that brave handsome boy of Beam, 
whose gallant bearing at Bayonne had excited 
the half-envious admiration of the Spanish court. 
In case the line of Valois failed, Henry of Navarre 
was the heir of the French throne. 

Despite her astuteness and her comparative free- 
dom from religious superstition, Catharine was an 
Italian, and she had inherited a devout belief in 
astrology. In a lonely watch-tower of the Louvre 
she held frequent vigils at night ; here, surrounded 
by a group of gray-bearded, hollow-eyed seers, she 
read the fates of her house in the stars. In their 
tranquil shining they always repeated the same 
story. The son of the Bourbon would in due 
time ascend the throne, and wear the crown of the 
Valois ! 

The soul of the stern woman trembled as she 
read the fates of her children in the peaceful 
stars which shone above their slumbers. She re- 
solved that no earthly power should induce her to 
permit the prince of Navarre to go out of her sight. 
The future was to prove' that in this instance her 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 233 

foresight was clear when she turned a deaf ear to 
all Jeanne's prayers and remonstrances. 

And it was this cunning, resolute woman, made 
doubly so by her superstitions and her fears, that 
Jeanne d'Albret was now to attempt to circum- 
vent. Her first measures were very adroit. It was 
a tremendous stake for which she was playing, and 
nothing but her love could have urged her to 
this desperate attempt. Perhaps even that motive 
would have failed, had she not perceived that the 
corrupt influences of Catharine de Medici's court 
were having a baneful effect upon the mind of her 
son. 

The mother's instincts were not at fault here. 
Henry was now thirteen years old. He was to be- 
come the greatest and noblest of his race, the might- 
iest sovereign of Europe ; his name was to shine 
with resplendent luster in its history. He was in 
many respects the greatest and noblest king who 
ever sat on the French throne ; but he never re- 
covered from the corrupting effects of those early 
years passed at Catharine de Medici's court. They 
left an ineffaceable taint on his whole moral nature ; 
they were more or less at the bottom of those deeds 
which sullied his private character amid all the 
greatness of his public career, and they have soiled 
the great memory of the man and the monarch. 

Jeanne d'Albret kept her own counsel. She 
had been accustomed all through her life to rely 
on herself. She was about to make a visit to her 
subjects in Picardy, and she asked the young 



234 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

king's permission for her son to accompany her 
on this progress, that she might present him to the 
vassals and retainers of Vendome. 

Nothing could have seemed more natural than 
this request. The king, always fond of his cousin, 
granted it wi(thout a suspicion. When Catharine, 
however, heard of this consent, her fears at once 
took alarm. More wily than her son, she half-sus- 
pected Jeanne's secret design, and refused to add 
her permission to the young king's. 

Jeanne d'Albret now gave a signal proof of her 
tact and her penetration. She had not read the 
character of the young king in vain. She knew 
what chords to touch skillfully as well as Cath- 
arine did. She entered into no dispute with her ; 
she quietly, but resolutely, repeated Charles's prom- 
ise, adding, " that it would be too great a discredit 
to his majesty to suppose him capable of break- 
ing his royal word." 

Nothing could have served her cause so well 
as this remark. Charles was extremely jealous of 
his mother's interference with his authority, and 
piqued himself on the inviolability of his royal 
word. Jeanne's appeal to his honor at once set- 
tled the matter; he proudly insisted that his prom- 
ise should be kept. Catharine, in spite of herself, 
was obliged to yield. 

The prince and his mother had a last audience 
before their departure. Catharine, in that inter- 
view, said significantly to the queen of Navarre: 

" Madame, I rely implicitly on your word and 



the Mother of the Bourdons. 235 

honor that the peace of France shall not be broken 
by the concession which we have made you. " 

This remark showed her secret anxiety ; Jeanne's 
unbending reply could hardly have relieved it ; 
but it was like herself. 

" I entreat you, madame, to believe that I shall 
never fail in the devotion which I owe to the 
king, my sovereign, and to yourself. The peril or 
the attempted destruction of my own house could 
alone alter my sentiments." 

So the queen and her son went out from the 
presence of Catharine de Medici. They would not 
look upon each other's faces again for years. But 
Charles, by permitting the departure of the prince, 
had severed the last link which gave him any con- 
trol over the Protestant party. 

Its great chiefs had all left the court ; their minds 
were filled with suspicion by the meeting at Ba- 
yonne ; they were alarmed by rumors of the san- 
guinary councils which had taken place at midnight 
in the chamber of the Spanish queen. Each was 
on guard, and ready at a moment's warning to 
spring to arms. 

Catharine must have thought of all this as she 
watched with reluctant gaze the bright head of 
the young prince of Beam disappear from her 
presence. But it is impossible to paint the moth- 
er's joy and gratitude in that hour. She had gained 
her point. In a little while, please God, her son 
should be out of the reach of his enemies and hers. 
A single false step at this time would have ruined 



2 2,6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

her carefully laid plans. The least suspicion of • 
her purpose would have been followed by a royal 
mandate forbidding Henry to leave the court. 

The queen of Navarre and her son departed in 
peace for Picardy ; they were attended by an im- 
posing suite. Every thing seems to have gone 
smoothly on their journey. She showed her hand- 
some boy with a mother's pride to his vassals. At 
last they reached the magnificent castle of La 
Fleche, in Anjou, where she had passed the brief, 
happy days of her early married life. 

At this castle tidings reached Jeanne that her 
subjects had once more risen in rebellion against 
the last edict which she had granted to the Hu- 
guenot ministers. Her resolution was at once 
taken. She would make this rebellion the excuse 
for returning immediately to Beam, and for carry- 
ing her son with her. 

There was no time to be lost. Catharine, alarmed 
at Jeanne's lengthened progress, had sent a most 
peremptory command for her to return at once 
with the prince. The terrible Montluc, who still 
commanded the troops in the south of France, 
hovered on the borders of Anjou, watching Jeanne's 
movements narrowly. He had orders from Catha- 
rine to arrest the prince if he detected a move- 
ment to carry him to Beam. 

But Jeanne, probably apprised of all this, did 
not hesitate. Time in such junctures is every 
thing. The queen sent a swift messenger to 
Pau with secret orders for an escort to meet and 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 237 

protect her on her flight home. In less than six 
hours afterward the intrepid woman herself stole 
noiselessly out of La Fleche ; her boy was by her 
side. Only a small retinue accompanied them. 

Straight through Guienne, among the pleasant 
country roads that wound along the valleys and over 
the hills, they rode swift and silent. They scarcely 
drew rein in that long, breathless flight. At last 
the clear, distant mountains loomed before them ; 
they knew then that the peril was almost over. 

On the borders of Beam, with banners flying, 
and loud acclaims at the sight of their prince, 
the brave d'Arros and his soldiers once more met 
their mistress and escorted her to Pau. 

Jeanne d'Albret could sit down in triumph 
under its banners once more. She had outwitted 
Catharine de Medici. But she knew that she had 
made one her enemy who never forgave, and that 
in all her future this must be borne in mind. She 
did what she could to appease the wrath she had 
provoked; she at once dispatched a messenger 
to Catharine with apologies for not returning to 
court with the prince; she made the revolt of the 
Bearnois nobles the excuse for her flight. 

Catharine was compelled to accept in part this 
apology, and in part to disguise her resentment ; 
but in her secret soul she probably cherished from 
that hour a deadly hatred toward the woman who 
had outwitted her. 

Fresh perils awaited the queen of Navarre in 
her own dominions. The clergy had been greatly 



238 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

exasperated by the edict which abolished their wor- 
ship ; a number of the most furious assembled in 
the house of a nobleman at Beam, entered into 
a league for Jeanne's destruction, and actually 
signed the frightful compact with their blood. 

No rumor of the fresh conspiracy against her 
life reached the queen, and, without a suspicion of 
the danger which menaced her, she left Pau, to so- 
journ for awhile at some celebrated baths not far 
distant. 

One of the nobles, however, who had signed the 
league against his sovereign, when he came to a 
calmer mind repented of the part which he had 
borne in the conspiracy. Proud of his old and 
honorable name, he could not bear that it should 
be stained by treachery against his sovereign ; and 
at last, haunted by remorse, he waited upon 
Jeanne's stanch friend, the Baron d'Audaux, and 
made a clean breast of the whole plot 

Measures were, of course, at once taken to seize 
the conspirators. The queen had not yet reached 
the baths when she learned the existence of this 
plot. She must have seemed to both friends and 
foes to bear a charmed life ; all the conspiracies 
laid with such skill and secrecy against her met 
with the same fate of exposure and ignominy. 
She turned back immediately to Pau ; the re- 
pentant baron threw himself at the feet of his 
magnanimous mistress, where he was certain of 
pardon. 

The conspirators, finding their treachery discoy- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 239 

ered, had fled for shelter to the town of Cleron, 
where, after several sharp contests, the revolt 
was subdued. The leaders were taken prisoners, 
sent in chains to Pau, tried, and condemned to 
death. 

Jeanne did not flinch before this new peril. She 
steadily enforced her edicts against the old relig- 
ion, and she ordered a meeting of the States of 
Beam that she might fully explain to her subjects 
the condition of her realm. 

At this meeting she presented her son to the 
chambers. She drew a vivid picture of the dis- 
tractions of the country, and, true to herself, she 
closed her speech by proclaiming the full pardon 
of the rebel leaders who had been sentenced to 
death. But this generous conduct of their queen 
met with no response from subjects whose hearts 
religious differences had steeled against her. The 
Assembly, in its address to its sovereign, assured 
her that her realm would never enjoy the bless- 
ings of peace and concord until she repealed her 
late edicts. Here she was immovable ; and when 
at last the Assembly was dissolved, its insurgent 
members scattered themselves abroad throughout 
the realm, fomenting trouble and plotting revolts 
wherever they went. 

At this crisis the queen wisely issued an order 
forbidding any one to carry fire-arms, hold secret 
assemblies, or ring the tocsin, which was the signal 
for tumult. Notwithstanding the edict which 
suppressed the ancient religion, the Catholics 



240 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

were still permitted their worship ; but the queen 
must have given fresh cause for offense by com- 
manding at this time the sale of most of the gold 
and silver church-vessels she had confiscated, and 
sending the remainder to the mint to be forthwith 
coined into money. 

Jeanne's promptness and energy had at last 
their effect. Her kingdom was outwardly tran- 
quil, and she now turned her thoughts to the edu- 
cation of her son. 

Catharine had pursued with the heir of Beam 
the same course that she had with her own chil- 
dren. There was no courtly accomplishment in 
which Henry was deficient ; he excelled in riding, 
dancing, wrestling. His taste for poetry had, by 
Catharine's express command, been diligently cul- 
tivated. The queen-mother inherited the intel- 
lectual qualities of her race, and she had taken 
care that Henry should be well instructed in the 
languages of the continent. But there were grave 
defects in the Italian woman's system of educa- 
tion. Her own sons, when they came to man- 
hood, showed too well the fatal consequences of 
her training. Versed in all the showy accomplish- 
ments of the French court, they were pitiably de- 
ficient in all solid attainments. 

Jeanne d'Albret, with her usual energy, set about 
correcting the faults which she discerned in her 
son's French-Italian education. The prince com- 
menced at once the study of Latin and Greek ; 
while the romances and chivalrous lays of France 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 241 

and Spain, of which he was so fond, were ex- 
changed for the more solid studies of history, pol- 
itics, and theology. 

Henry was thirteen years old when he returned 
to Pau ; but he seems always to have been in 
body and mind in advance of his years. Dearly 
as he loved his mother, and keenly as he resented 
her wrongs, the immense change in his life could 
not have been agreeable to the young prince. The 
gay and gallant spirit which he inherited from both 
Bourbon and Valois must have chafed at the staid- 
ness and gravity of the little Protestant court at 
Beam ; its strictness must have formed a striking 
contrast to the pleasure and splendor amid which 
he had been reared. 

Henry already showed qualities which filled the 
watchful soul of his mother with alarm. She did 
all that lay in her power to prevent their growth. 
She interdicted dice, cards, and billiards, and dis- 
couraged, so far as was possible, his intercourse 
with the fair young girls in her train. 

Henry's pleasure-loving soul could not have 
taken kindly to his mother's strict regimen, and it 
is likely that as he grew older he would have re- 
sented it. But the staid little court, and the peace- 
ful studies among the shadows of the mountains 
around Beam, were soon to be broken up. 

It is impossible within the space of this brief 
history to more than glance at the great events 
which were now transpiring in France. The bit- 
ter fruit of the gay meeting at Bayonne was already 



242 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

ripe for the harvest. The air was full of suspicions. 
Every movement of the French court was scruti- 
nized by men in fear for their liberty and their lives. 
Letters were intercepted which proved that Cath- 
arine was inclined more and more to the pitiless 
counsels of her son-in-law. The Catholic party, 
the dreaded Guises, grew more and more in favor 
at court. 

The duke of Alva, with his army, was on his fa- 
mous journey to the Netherlands; he would soon 
sweep a red whirlwind of wrath and vengeance 
upon the Protestants, and spread slaughter and 
misery through the fairest of Philip's provinces. 
Catharine affected the utmost fear lest a Spanish 
war was brewing, and with this transparent pretext 
levied a body of six thousand Swedish soldiers. 
This act confirmed the fears of the Huguenots. 
They believed that the French and Spanish courts 
were leagued for their destruction, and that for- 
eign soldiers had been hired to aid in it. 

One day in the golden September weather, 1567, 
tranquillity reigned throughout the humming cities 
and among the harvest fields and purpling vine- 
yards of France ; the next the Huguenots were in 
arms, the panic-stricken king was on his wild flight 
from Meaux to Paris, and the tocsin was pealing 
over all the cities of France, summoning the people 
from their homes and toils to havoc and slaughter. 

Coligny having failed to secure the person of 
the young sovereign followed him to Paris, and en- 
camped at St. Denis, striking terror to the heart of 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 243 

the gay capital. Charles placed his grandfather's 
old general, Montmorency, at the head of the royal 
forces. A desperate and bloody struggle followed 
before the walls of Paris. Conde and Coligny 
were at last repulsed, but they held for five days 
the whole adjacent country, and at last retired in 
battle array to form a junction with the son of the 
Elector-Palatine, who was hurrying with six thou- 
sand horse to their aid. 

The victors could hardly have rejoiced over their 
triumph. Montmorency, the old war horse, the 
general and companion of Francis II., lay dead on 
the battle-field, assassinated by a Scotch trooper ! 

The Huguenots had proved once more their 
courage and their prowess. The envoy of the 
Sultan, as he watched from the walls of Paris the 
muster of the defeated army, transported with 
enthusiasm at its order and bearing, exclaimed : 
"Would that my master had only six thousand 
horsemen like those men of the great white coats 
and he would soon be lord of Europe I" 

Such powerful enemies could not be defied, and 
Catharine found herself once more compelled to 
make peace with the Huguenots. The treaty of 
Chartres was signed in the following March. Its 
terms were mostly favorable to the Huguenots ; 
but her subsequent conduct proved that the queen- 
mother never intended to observe its provisions 
longer than the emergencies of the moment re- 
quired. France, however, had short a breathing 
spell between her battles. 



244 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Jeanne d'Albret had taken no active part in this 
warfare. Indeed, the French court had provided 
her with work enough to do at home, in suppress- 
ing revolts among her own subjects. 

She had done this well. She had sent the 
young prince to assist in putting down a rebellion 
in the town of Cleron. Here the future great 
conqueror had his first experience in military af- 
fairs. It had been the steady policy of Catharine 
to suppress all the martial tastes which her in- 
cessant watchfulness had observed in the young 
Bourbon, and which always made her uneasy. 

Henry's frankness, courage, and bearing at once 
won the heart of his mother's subjects. The vic- 
tory was complete when he made an address telling 
them that the queen had no intention to force 
their consciences in matters of religion ; she only 
desired their loyal obedience. The wildest joy 
followed this happy speech. Those southern 
hearts and imaginations, artfully inflamed by the 
false stories of the queen's enemies, were filled with 
enthusiasm for Henry, and the people swore to 
live and die his mother's faithful subjects. 

One of the rebel barons of Beam, at the head of 
a company of brigands, had seized a castle on the 
frontiers of Spain. On the approach of the 
prince, with the forces under the command of 
Jeanne's trusted generals, the baron and most of 
his officers fled to the mountain fastnesses. The 
fortress surrendered at the first summons, and 
Henry triumphantly sent what remained of the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 245 

garrison to Pau. So his first feat at arms ended in 
the victory which was to crown all his future ones. 

Jeanne soon made the discovery that the insur- 
rection had been encouraged by both Catharine 
and the king of Spain, in order that the queen, ab- 
sorbed in trouble at home, should be unable to af- 
ford any support to the Huguenots in their late 
war. Every day must have augmented Jeanne's 
dread and distrust of the French court. One can 
imagine her indignation when she learned that 
Charles IX. had conferred the grand collar of St. 
Michael on De Luxe, Jeanne's powerful rebel 
baron, " as a reward for his services in finding em- 
ployment for the queen of Navarre during the late 
war." 

Yet Catharine was all this time exerting every 
art to induce Jeanne or her son to return to the 
French court. She sent the accomplished embas- 
sador, Fenelon, subsequently minister to England, 
to overcome her reluctance to proceed to Paris. 
He represented, with all the arguments and elo- 
quence at his command, the urgent need of her 
presence in the negotiations for peace, and insisted 
that she alone could dictate terms acceptable to 
both parties. 

But the queen of Navarre was not to be moved. 
She suspected the snare so carefully laid for her. 
She had no confidence in the peace of Chartres, 
and she believed that the Catholics would seize 
the first opportunity for breaking it ; she therefore 
positively declined to leave her own territories. 



246 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Events soon proved the wisdom of her decision. 
The influences of the Spanish cabinet, the violent 
counsels of the Guise party, at the head of which 
was the cardinal of Lorraine, were now dominant 
at the French court. 

This time Catharine resolved to retaliate in kind 
the attempt of Coligny at Meaux to seize the young 
king. Assisted by the cardinal of Lorraine, she 
laid a deep snare to entrap the great Huguenot 
leaders. But she was obliged to keep this mat- 
ter a profound secret, and the agents whom she 
selected for its execution did not prove the right 
ones. 

Conde was at Noyers with his family, not har- 
boring a suspicion of the trap which was being 
laid for him. Marshal de Tavannes, governor 
of Burgundy, received secret orders from the 
French court to surprise Noyers and arrest Conde 
and his family. Similar orders were sent to the 
governors of the different provinces where the. 
princes of Chatillon, the great Huguenot leaders, 
resided. 

De Tavannes was the inveterate enemy of 
Conde, but his stern soul shrank from executing 
the perfidious order of the court. Without be- 
traying his master, he contrived to let Conde know 
his danger. The prince's enemies named him 
"The Stag." The governor sent some written 
messages to his friends containing only these sig- 
nificant words : " The Stag is in the toils ; the 
chase is prepared!" He commanded several 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 247 

couriers with these dispatches to pass before 
Noyers. 

It was a most ingenious device to warn Conde. 
As Tavannes had foreseen, his couriers were ar- 
rested, the dispatches read. Conde took the 
alarm and at once prepared for flight. Before he 
could make his escape Coligny arrived breath- 
less, with a train of only forty gentlemen, to apprise 
his nephew of his danger. Some friend at court 
had sent the admiral a private warning to be on 
his guard. 

The other princes received a hint of the danger 
in time, and barely escaped out of the clutches of 
Catharine. So her fine-laid plans had all failed, 
and again the tocsin pealed, and the people armed, 
and the war the queen-mother dreaded burst once 
more upon France. 

Through the hot August weather, Conde, es- 
corted by the brave old Coligny, made his perilous 
flight from Noyers. It was a pitiable sight to see 
him, a prince of the blood, with his delicate wife 
and his five young children, three of them in 
cradles, flying through the burning heat and the 
blinding dust for the banks of the Loire. 

He had an escort of one hundred and fifty men. 
He had just crossed the river when the troops 
of Tavannes, sent in pursuit, thundered upon the 
opposite banks. But the river was between Conde 
and his foes; he sent dispatches to the queen of 
Navarre informing her of his flight, and then 
pushed on to La Rochelle, which he reached in 
16 



248 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

safety, and within whose walls he was secure. 
His escape seemed little less than a miracle. 

Conde's envoy found the queen of Navarre at 
Vic. He remained in secret conference with her 
for more than four hours. The great crisis of her 
life had come. It was at this time that Jeanne 
d'Albret made her decision to cast in her lot for 
good or for evil with the Huguenots. 

The utter baseness of the court had severed the 
last tie which bound the daughter of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme to her kindred of Valois. Between 
herself and Catharine de Medici there could be no 
peace. Jeanne d'Albret had read the soul of the 
Italian, and knew all its depths of hatred, base- 
ness, and perfidy. But the queen of Navarre had 
recently heard of a new plot which her enemies 
were hatching. It was nothing less than to forci- 
bly seize her son, and carry him back to the French 
court. This discovery showed her there was no 
time to be lost. 

De Losse, captain of the body-guard, had actu- 
ally been appointed to carry out this monstrous 
scheme. He had come provided with the neces- 
sary dispatches to Montluc, who was ordered to 
prevent at all risks the departure of the queen of 
Navarre from her own territories except as a pris- 
oner to Paris. 

Jeanne saw that her fortunes and her children's 
were bound up with Conde's. However cruel was 
the struggle which it cost her to make up her 
mind, she was not a woman to waste time in lam- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 249 

entations or half measures. Every thing now 
depended upon speed and secrecy. Eyes full of 
hatred and suspicion were watching her on every 
side. She acted with her usual promptness and 
discretion. She sent a message, full of sympa- 
thy, to the princes at La Rochelle, and promised 
soon to meet them there in person. They could 
trust her word. Jeanne d'Albret never failed in 
that, and her presence and her influence would 
be of incalculable benefit to their cause. 

The queen of Navarre made a brief return to 
Pau in company with the prince, whom in those 
days of danger she would not trust beyond her 
sight. Always alive to the interests of her people, 
she published some fresh edicts for the better gov- 
ernment of Beam. She then took a sad and tear- 
ful farewell of the beautiful palace-home of her 
father and mother. From this the daughter of 
Marguerite d'Angouleme was driven by the chil- 
dren of Francis II. ! 

She proceeded at once to Nerac. It was neces- 
sary that while here she should conduct her affairs 
with impenetrable secrecy. Her enemies were 
awake. The very air was alive with suspicion and 
rumors. On her frontiers at Cassaigne the terri- 
ble Montluc lay, greedily watching her movements. 
His agents reported every act of the queen. Prot- 
estant gentlemen daily arrived at Nerac to offer her 
their services, which, while thanking them with many 
gracious words, she neither accepted nor declined. 

Montluc, even, finding it for his interest still to 



250 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

conciliate the queen, sent his nephew with com- 
pliments and welcomes to Jeanne d'Albret, and 
assured her that his party should not be the first 
to break the peace. Jeanne replied in the same 
courteous strain, and stated that her object in vis- 
iting Nerac was to preserve order throughout her 
territories. 

The queen now received another visit from Fen- 
elon, who once more exerted all his eloquence to 
induce Jeanne to visit the French court. He him- 
self was her personal friend, a nobleman of high 
honor and integrity, and he probably was not 
aware of the sinister designs entertained by Cath- 
arine. He sincerely believed that Jeanne's pres- 
ence and her moral influence at court would pro- 
mote a reconciliation between the two religious 
parties. But he found her as immovable as her 
own Pyrenees. 

"Monseigneur," replied the queen to all the 
nobleman's eloquent entreaties, " what trust can I 
place in the promises of a court which, at the very 
time it professes to treat with me, is plotting my 
arrest, and seeking to tear my children from me ? " 

If Fenelon could not answer this question he 
could still urge the perils to which Jeanne was ex- 
posing her dominions on both their French and 
Spanish frontiers. But the accomplished noble 
saw that his words beat against the dauntless soul 
of the woman as tides beat against the rocks. At 
last he gave up in despair, leaving the queen to 
go her own way. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 251 

Jeanne, meantime, had been making secret prep- 
arations for her departure, sending orders to some 
of her most trusted noblemen to muster their 
troops and guard her retreat. 

On September 6, 1568, all was prepared for the 
queen's flight. Every preparation had been taken 
to deceive Montluc. His wife and his children 
had been frequent guests of Jeanne during her 
sojourn at Nerac, and on the day fixed for her de- 
parture the queen had invited them to visit her, 
in order that the marshal's eldest son might have 
a tilting game with the prince, an honor the father 
would not be likely to decline. 

In the gray dawn all was ready. Jeanne and 
her son partook of the Holy Communion in the 
chapel of Nerac. She needed all the dear sup- 
ports and consolations of her faith in that trying 
hour. She was about to do a deed before whose 
perils the stoutest man might well have quailed. 
Life, freedom, all that she held dear for herself or 
her children, were at stake. She comprehended the 
dangers clearly, yet in that long act of womanly 
heroism her strong heart did not once fail. 

Jeanne ascended the litter in the growing dawn ; 
the little Princess Catharine followed her mother. 
Fifty valiant gentlemen ranged themselves as a 
body-guard about the queen ; the young prince 
assumed command of the escort. In all that fu- 
ture of power and grandeur which lay before him 
he would never forget that hour in the still, gray 
dawn, with the little company of resolute faces in 



252 The .Protestant Queen of Navarre } 

the dim light, knowing well the awful dangers 
which lay before them. But when the sun rose 
over the mountains, and the air was full of songs 
and all the fragrance of southern blossoms, the 
little train was safe beyond the walls of Nerac. 

The rapid fugitives took the road for Castel- 
Jaloux. A single band of Montluc's fierce ma- 
rauders crossing their path might have cut them 
to pieces. The brave looks and words of their 
sovereign inspired her troops with hope, and at 
their head rode, his face beaming with dauntless 
courage, the proud, beautiful young heir of Beam. 

At length the party descried a body of cavalry 
in the distance bearing down full upon them. 
Jeanne commanded a halt. It was a moment of 
awful. suspense. Then a sudden shout of joy from 
her gentlemen in arms filled the golden September 
air. They had seen the banner of her seneschal, 
Loutrailles, waving in the sunshine. His troops 
closed joyfully around their queen. Her danger 
of immediate capture was now over, for every town 
and village through which she passed was roused 
to enthusiasm by the sight, and poured forth fresh 
defenders for the royal fugitives. 

At Castel-Jaloux two of her viscounts, with rein- 
forcements, joined their queen ; but, despite this 
fresh cortege, she pushed on across the river Dor- 
dogne to Bergerac, which she entered in triumph, 
amid the plaudits of the people, with a grand es- 
cort of horse and three thousand infantry. Here 
for the present she was safe. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 253 

When the queen of Navarre's chamberlain pre- 
sented himself, charged with her regrets, Montluc 
knew that his prey had escaped him. Pressing 
affairs, Jeanne said, called her at this juncture to 
Castel-Jaloux, and compelled her to break her 
appointment with the wife and son of Montluc. 
Almost beside himself with rage, he took horse and 
pursued her at the head of a troop of cavalry, 
making his entrance into Castel-Jaloux just four 
hours after the queen of Navarre had left it. 

At Bergerac, Jeanne addressed her famous let- 
ter to Charles IX. In this, with all the force 
and eloquence of which she was mistress, she ex- 
plained and justified her position ; and she sol- 
emnly insisted on her affection and loyalty for her 
sovereign. 

But her noble words fell unheeded. Under the 
dominion of his mother, Charles was going on the 
dark way of Spain and the Guises. For answer 
to Jeanne's appeal a fresh edict of oppression and 
vengeance was thundered against the Huguenots. 
In her wrath Catharine rejected all moderate coun- 
sels, and a grand procession through the streets of 
Paris, in which the sickly young king, too feeble 
to walk, rode on horseback, inaugurated the new 
era of civil war. 

Jeanne d'Albret pushed on rapidly to La Ro- 
chelle. Not one of her measures failed. In that 
long flight her escorts always met her punctually 
at the appointed time and place. Officers and 
men were alike devoted to their queen. Well 



254 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

might the brave woman exclaim, "To the valiant 
heart nothing is impossible !" 

When the queen at last arrived at Archiac, the 
delighted Conde left La Rochelle to meet and es- 
cort his sister-in-law into the city. It was a proud 
hour for Jeanne d'Albret when she beheld all the 
great Huguenot nobles gather around the stand- 
ard of Beam. Never had queen nobler subjects; 
never did subjects kneel to do homage to nobler 
queen. In the roll-call of those heroes are the 
great names of France, the men who shed such 
undying luster of glory and honor on the sixteenth 
century of her history. On the 28th of September 
the queen of Navarre made her entrance into La 
Rochelle. On her right rode the prince of Beam, 
and Conde on her left. Every conceivable honor 
was rendered her. At the gates the mayor and 
the authorities met her, and presented her with the 
keys of the town. A cavalcade of ladies received 
her, and with royal honors they conducted her to 
the Hotel de Ville, which had been prepared for 
the residence of the queen of Navarre. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 255 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE most imposing ceremonies took place on 
the day following the entrance of Jeanne 
d'Albret into Rochelle. The Huguenot army was 
fully impressed with the immense power and 
prestige which the presence of a European sov- 
ereign gave to their cause ; it desired to show her 
and her son every possible honor. 

The princes, nobles, and first citizens had as- 
sembled to nominate a commander-in-chief and 
to organize a new government, as they had re- 
nounced their allegiance to the king of France. 
The hour was one of supreme importance. The 
eyes of the world were turned to that assemblage 
under the great roof of the Hotel de Ville, in the 
old fortified city by the sea ; the hopes and prayers 
of all the Protestants of Europe gathered around it. 

However illustrious might be the birth and re- 
nown of many of the warriors and nobles of the 
Huguenot army, there were two whose claims, by 
unanimous consent, outshone all others. These 
were Conde and Henry, the uncle and the nephew, 
the veteran warrior and the unused boy. But the 
prince of Beam was the son of Conde's elder 
brother, and had the higher claim by right of 
birth. Thunders of applause shook the whole 
building as Jeanne and her gallant boy entered in 



256 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

royal state and took the chief places at the coun- 
cil board, while the ladies and gentlemen of her 
train occupied seats immediately behind their 
queen. 

It must have been an imposing sight, and Jeanne 
d'Albret's heart must have throbbed with triumph 
as she looked on the crowd of Huguenot leaders, 
on the nobles gathered around her, and on the 
sea of eager faces which filled the vast hall. Her 
own dauntless courage and her profound skill 
could alone have brought the lonely, persecuted 
woman to this hour. 

Yet there is no doubt some poignant bitterness 
must have mingled with her triumph. She could 
not forget that she, the daughter of Marguerite 
d'Angouleme, was in arms against the grandson of 
Francis I. But her enemies had driven her to this, 
and the responsibility lay at their doors. 

Amid the profound silence of the vast company 
Conde arose. In most fitting words the great 
chieftain resigned the command of the armies to 
his young nephew. He paid a glowing tribute to 
the greatness and virtues of the queen of Navarre, 
and he promised to be a father to her son. As 
first prince of the blood, as chief of the house of 
Vendome, he proffered Henry his allegiance and 
devoted service. When the warrior sat down the 
shouts of his hearers shook the air like peals of 
thunder. 

Then the queen of Navarre stepped forth, and 
the crowd was hushed again as that serene, noble 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 257 

presence rose before it. The speech of Conde and 
the shouts of the people had shaken her usual 
self-composure, and for a while her emotion made 
it difficult for her to speak. But at last her clear, 
steady tones rose over the breathless crowd, while 
she declined in behalf of her son the command of 
the allied armies. 

" No, gentlemen," she said, " I and my children 
are here to promote the success of this great cause 
or to share in its disasters. The cause of God is 
dearer to me than the aggrandizement of my son. 
The same feelings possess the prince; he would 
rather return and abandon his share in this great 
design than allow this resignation, pernicious to 
the glory of God and the success of our arms. 
Continue to us, Monseigneur," addressing Conde, 
" your counsels. For the salvation of all — for the 
sake of my son, the chief of your race — retain the 
command which you have rendered illustrious by 
deeds of heroic valor." 

In vain Conde and the chiefs of the council 
united their persuasions to shake the queen's reso- 
lution. Her brother-in-law promised her that 
while he took rank under his nephew, he would in 
reality direct all the movements of the army. 
But the queen was not to be persuaded. Her 
grateful affection for Conde, her trust in his valor 
and integrity, made her insist that no other author- 
ity should even nominally supersede his own. By 
her command, therefore, Conde was at once pro- 
claimed general-in chief. 



258 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

" My son," said the queen when Henry, influ- 
enced, of course, by his mother, had assented to 
the measure, " policy, gratitude, and necessity, 
render it expedient that you should resign the 
command to your uncle. This honor, in truth, 
belonged to yourself in virtue of your birth and 
rank, but you cannot claim your rights without 
exposing your party to ruin — ruin which must 
entail your own. Europe is at this moment watch- 
ing your actions. You have ceased to be a child. 
You have become a man. Go, then, my son, and 
being subordinate now, learn, under the valiant 
Conde, to command some day also in your turn." 

The boy listened with eager, flushed face to this 
address. All who looked on him felt that his soul 
responded to the stirring appeals of his mother. 
She knew always how to reach the noble side of 
Henry the Great. He stood before her in his 
young beauty, with his clear, brown complexion, 
his bright eyes and his finely-shaped limbs, all 
showing the result of the wise bodily training of 
his Bearnois grandfather. 

The prince answered with a few well-chosen 
words. He promised obedience to his uncle, ded- 
icated himself to the cause, and vowed never to 
sheath his sword until his mother's enemies were 
vanquished. 

Before the council separated that day it installed 
the queen at the head of civil affairs in Rochelle. 
They placed a terrible burden on the shoulders of 
the frail woman, for, despite her wonderful activ- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 259 

ity and energy, she was beginning to show symp- 
toms of the disease which had cut down so many 
of her race in their prime. 

Probably she herself was not conscious of this. 
Despite her disturbed, sleepless nights at Rochelle, 
her mind had never been clearer or more active ; 
her amazing memory, her tireless energy, excited 
the admiration of all who were admitted to her 
audience. 

But her cares were overwhelming ; they equaled 
Conde's. She had the management of the finances 
of the armies, of the negotiations with the French 
court and with foreign cabinets, and the general 
supervision of the allied forces. The post was one 
of wearing difficulty and anxiety. Upon her su- 
pervision and foresight depended the success of 
the war. No wonder her health declined under 
the terrible pressure laid upon it ; no wonder that 
the queen was observed to sit silent, motionless, 
and exhausted, when she at last regained the pri- 
vacy of her own apartments. 

One of Jeanne's first movements was to send 
dispatches for aid to the queen of England. She 
told well the story of her wrongs to her most pow- 
erful friend. The plea of the queen of Navarre, 
the perils to which Conde had been exposed, the 
edict issued by Charles IX. suppressing the Re- 
formed religion in violation of his royal word, 
roused Elizabeth to the strongest indignation. 

She at once avowed her intention to assist the 
Huguenots. She dispatched artillery, with large 



260 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

stores of ammunition, to Rochelle. She sent the 
queen a large sum of money, with a letter ex- 
pressing her warm sympathy, and promising more 
effectual aid in future. The two greatest women 
in Europe at this time were Protestant queens, 
and their friendship sent dismay to the faction 
which ruled the court. It, no doubt, was at the 
bottom of those overtures for peace finally made 
by Catharine to the Huguenot party. 

That party increased daily. Town after town 
opened its gates to garrisons from Conde. Coligny 
encamped on the plains with twenty-five thousand 
tried soldiers. In less than a month his brother, 
D'Andelot, who had fled through the burning July 
heats with Conde, found himself at the head of an 
army of one hundred thousand troops. 

Languedoc, by Jeanne's command, sent twenty- 
two thousand infantry to join the prince. The 
Duke d'Montpensier in vain attempted to inter- 
cept this division ; for although, in the sharp con- 
flict between him and the Huguenots, the latter 
lost three thousand troops, they continued their 
march to their destination. 

The generals of the royal army were paralyzed 
on every side by the contradictory orders which 
they received from a court thrown into the utmost 
dismay by the character and extent of the Hu- 
guenot rebellion. After two months of an inglori- 
ous campaign the royal army retired into winter- 
quarters. 

When the prince of Beam departed to join the 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 261 

army, his heroic mother invested him with the ar- 
mor he was never to lay down in all the long, glo- 
rious career which awaited him, and though he 
was dearer to her than her own life, she took her 
farewell of him with calmness. 

Soon after the departure of her son the queen 
made a visit to Conde, who was with the armies, 
to confer with him on the means of raising money. 
She had generously devoted to this war all the 
vast treasure which she brought with her in her 
flight from Nerac. She had sold jewels of great 
value for the cause, but all these could not long 
defray the enormous expense of the great armies 
now in the field. Jeanne and her brother were 
driven to maintain the troops by confiscating the 
Church property in the conquered territories. 
This measure was one of vast importance, and the 
commission authorizing it was issued under the 
joint names of the queen and Conde. 

King Charles and his brother had meanwhile 
taken up their abode at the Louvre. No words 
can describe the consternation and rage of Cath- 
arine when she discovered the successful flight of 
the queen of Navarre to La Rochelle, and found 
that all her deep schemes to take Jeanne prisoner 
had not only been discovered but defeated. The 
wily, plotting Catharine saw that she had found 
her match in the clear penetration and steadfast 
purpose of her husband's kinswoman. Again and 
again they had been matched in a conflict of wits, 
and the Frenchwoman had always vanquished the 



262 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Florentine in that delicate warfare. Catharine felt 
there was one person in the world who understood 
her, and she hated as much as she feared Jeanne 
d'Albret. 

When the tidings of the queen's flight with the 
prince reached the French court, a council was 
assembled in haste at the Louvre, at the head of 
which was that arch intriguer, the cardinal of Lor- 
raine. Charles was filled with wrath at Jeanne's 
conduct ; in his rage he did not see how the per- 
sistent wrong and cruelty of his mother and her 
advisers had driven the queen of Navarre into 
rebellion. 

In the wild passion of the moment it was de- 
cided that Jeanne's domains and fief-lands should 
be seized; but Catharine probably quailed at the 
last instant, for this measure of taking armed pos- 
session of another sovereign's territories was ex- 
cused on the ground that the queen of Navarre 
and her son were held captives in the Huguenot 
camp, and compelled against their will to their 
present hostile bearing toward the king of France. 

Of course nobody was deceived by this flimsy 
pretext, but it proved Catharine's alarm, and 
showed that she still shrank from making the 
rupture between herself and Jeanne irreconcil- 
able, so long, at least, as the queen was not in her 
power. 

Beam seemed, meanwhile, abandoned to its fate. 
Its sovereign had deserted it at its peril. Obliged 
to keep her flight a profound secret, Jeanne had 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 263 

taken no measures to protect her domains, where 
the utmost consternation now prevailed. Her 
conduct did not spring from any lack of foresight 
on her part. Any attempt to put her territories 
in a further state of defense would have awakened 
the suspicions of enemies always on the watch; 
she knew that the triumph of the Huguenots was 
the only security for her kingdom. 

Spain once more seized the opportunity, and 
sent an army into Foix to besiege one of its cas- 
tles ; but the French court in its turn took alarm, 
and orders were at once transmitted to De Luxe, 
Jeanne's rebellious baron, to seize the domains of 
Albret in the name of Charles IX. 

From the old fortified town of Rochelle by the 
sea Jeanne watched the gathering of the armies to 
despoil her of her heritage. Her brave spirit did 
not falter before this new misfortune. She issued 
orders to her trusted nobles to levy troops and 
defend the borders ; a body of soldiers signalized 
by long and splendid service, were dispatched 
to the brave d'Arros and Montamar, charged with 
the defense of Beam. 

So another winter went by. Its extreme sever- 
ity prevented the royal army from taking the field. 
Meanwhile the French court was filled with con- 
sternation at the numbers, organization, and spirit 
of the Huguenots. That whole winter must have 
been full of fear and foreboding for all Catholic 
France. Once more Catharine made a rash grasp 

at peace. She liberated an imprisoned Huguenot, 
17 



264 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

and sent him with dispatches to Conde, in which 
she assured the prince that if he made overtures 
for a reconciliation they would be warmly second- 
ed at court. 

Conde replied to the queen's message that he 
had not taken up arms against his king, but to 
subdue the enemies of his faith, principally the 
cardinal of Lorraine. He offered to lay down his 
arms as soon as he could be assured that his maj- 
esty would grant liberty of conscience and free- 
dom of worship to the Protestants. 

Jeanne also made another attempt to move Cath- 
arine ; she addressed to her one of her frank, ear- 
nest, and eloquent appeals, in which she avowed 
her own loyalty to Charles, her ardent desire for 
peace, and besought the queen-mother to listen to 
her supplications. But the influences at court set 
too strongly against the Huguenots. The dark, 
cold winter went over the unhappy nation, which 
only waited for the pleasant spring to be filled 
with the clamor of war. 

The queen of Navarre, meanwhile, ruled with 
consummate wisdom at Rochelle. Her great abil- 
ities had now an ample field on which to display 
themselves. She supervised every thing : the vict- 
ualing of the garrisons, the immense supplies of food 
and provisions for the army. Attended by a staff 
of officers, she visited all the posts and defenses of 
the town. 

Other souls caught the fire of hers. Southern 
France, with a burst of enthusiasm, rose in one 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 265 

wide insurrection, which the royal officers tried in 
vain to suppress. The Protestants of Germany 
responded to the eloquent appeal of the queen of 
Navarre, and awaited only the dawn of spring to 
pour their armies into France. The fleets of Eliza- 
beth Tudor anchored at Rochelle with supplies 
and ammunition. 

The royal army broke up its winter-quarters as 
early as possible and advanced upon the princes. 
At the beginning of March Conde was marching 
to Cognac, where he intended to await the arrival 
of Duke Wolfgang, of Bavaria, with a succor of 
thirteen thousand troops. But the Duke d'Anjou, 
Catharine's second son, the handsome, indolent, 
treacherous favorite of his mother, nominally com- 
manded the army under the veteran officers of 
Charles IX. He was persuaded by these to dis- 
pute Conde's march to Cognac, and give him battle 
at Jarnac. 

It was a disastrous day for the Huguenots. At 
the opening of the engagement Coligny was re- 
pulsed by the fiery onslaught of the royal troops, 
and he sent entreaties to Conde to hasten to his 
aid with the main body of his army. Conde led 
it in person, although his leg was broken by a kick 
from the horse of Count Rochefoucauld, who 
never left the prince's side through all that terri- 
ble day. 

Conde performed miracles of valor. His cour- 
age and example sustained his failing troops, who, 
surrounded by overwhelming numbers, and not 



266 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

supported by the reserves, which were hastening to 
their aid, at last gave way on all sides. Coligny, 
however, rallied his broken battalions, and effected 
a masterly retreat to St. Jean d'Angely. 

Conde, taken prisoner, and strictly guarded by 
his captors, was carried to the rear of the camp. 
The end of the brave, stormy life had come at 
last. An officer and favorite of D'Anjou's sud- 
denly rushed forward with several of his compan- 
ions, swearing, with awful oaths, that the prince 
should die, and before anybody could interpose, 
he took aim and shot the valiant Conde dead on 
the spot ! 

The monstrous crime was not punished. It was 
believed that D'Anjou expressed his approval of 
it. He certainly afterward proposed to erect a 
chapel on the spot where Conde fell. The body 
of the first prince of the blood was ignomin- 
iously thrown across an ass and conveyed to the 
rear of the army, when D'Anjou made his tri- 
umphal entrance into Jarnac. Conde's body was, 
however, subsequently restored to his son, and 
Jeanne had her brother-in-law interred among his 
ancestors, the Bourbon princes, at Vendome. 

The death of the great leader of the Huguenots 
completely paralyzed the army. The soldiers ap- 
peared utterly crushed by the suddenness of the 
blow. The old martial spirit seemed to have died 
out among the troops. Discipline was every- 
where relaxed and forgotten, as the men brooded 
over their loss, or were alternately possessed by 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 267 

paroxysms of grief, despair, and vengeance. In 
the royal army and in the court at Paris there was 
nothing but exultation and celebrations over che 
death of Conde. 

The brave old Coligny, who had saved the army, 
and whose masterly retreats were always the next 
thing to a victory, saw the change. The army 
would become utterly demoralized if its spirit were 
not restored. In the whole world the stern old 
warrior knew of but one person whose presence 
and words could reanimate his soldiers, and bring 
back to their hearts the invincible courage which 
had been tried on so many battle fields ; that 
person was a woman ! He sent dispatches to 
Jeanne d'Albret to hurry to the camp. They 
found her already on the way with her army, her 
son, and his young orphan cousin, the prince of 
Conde. 

The death of her brother-in-law had cruelly 
lacerated her heart. She was profoundly attached 
to him, and she realized the terrible loss which the 
cause so dear to her had sustained. But she soon 
rallied from her grief, and she would not allow it 
to impede for a moment the duties of the hour. 

By Coligny 's command the army was drawn up 
in battle array to receive the queen. It was a 
moment of profoundest grief for all. She saw the 
trailing banners, the black draperies which every- 
where covered the lilies of Bourbon, and she 
marked the gloom which darkened every soldier's 
brow ? Condi's son rode at the left of the queen. 



268 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

His grief at that trying moment could not be re- 
pressed, and the sight of it almost overcame his 
aunt. Her son rode by her side, his young limbs 
clad in armor, while the shield he carried blazed 
with the fleur-de-lis. 

As Jeanne d'Albret rode along the front ranks 
of the army shouts of joyous welcome rent the 
air. It did Coligny's stout old heart good to hear 
them. He knew then that the spirit of his soldiers 
was not broken. 

A long company of warriors and nobles rode in 
the train of the queen, but she advanced alone to 
address the soldiers, with only her son and her 
nephew on either side of her. We, too, will listen 
as the soldiers did, forgetting the crowded years 
between, and hearing only the clear, calm voice 
of the woman as it rings down the intervening 
centuries. 

" Children of God and of France, Conde is no 
more ! That prince who so often set you the ex- 
ample of courage and of unstained honor ; who 
was always ready to combat for his king, his coun- 
try, and his faith ; who never took up arms except 
to defend ' himself against implacable enemies ; 
that heroic prince, whom even his foes were con- 
strained to reverence, has sacrificed his life for the 
noblest of causes. 

" Soldiers, you weep ! But does the memory of 
Conde demand nothing more than tears ? Will you 
be satisfied with profitless regrets ? No ! Let us 
unite and summon back our courage to defend 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 269 

a cause which can never perish, and to avenge 
him who was its firmest support. Does despair 
overpower you — despair, that shameful failing of 
weak natures ? Can it be known to you, noble 
warriors and Christian men ? When I, the queen, 
hope still, is it for you to fear ? Because Conde 
is dead is all, therefore, lost ? Does our cause 
cease to be just and holy ? No ! God, who has 
already rescued you from perils innumerable, has 
raised us up brothers-in-arms worthy to succeed 
Conde. There remains for our leaders Coligny, 
Rochefoucauld, La Noue Rohan, De Pilles, d'An- 
delot, Montgomery. To these brave warriors I 
add my son. Make proof of his valor ! The blood 
of Bourbon and of Valois flows in his veins ! He 
burns with ardor to avenge the death of the 
prince. Behold, also, Conde's son, now become 
my own child. He is the worthy inheritor of his 
father's virtues. He succeeds to his name and to 
his glory. Soldiers, I offer to you every thing in 
my power to bestow : my dominions, my treasures, 
my life, and that which is dearer to me than all, 
my children ! I make here solemn oath before 
you all — and you know me too well to doubt my 
word — I swear to defend to my last sigh the holy 
cause which now unites us, which is that of honor 
and of truth." 

If the words of the great Frenchwoman ring 
across the silent centuries and stir our hearts still 
like a mighty trumpet, what must they have been 
to the men who listened amid the trailing banners 



270 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

and sable draperies that March day on the fields 
of St. Jean d'Angely ? 

When the queen ceased speaking there was a 
pause of breathless silence; then the shouts of the 
great army thundered out. At Paris they have 
rung the midnight bells for the battle of Jarnac. 
But that ringing shout tells all Europe that the 
spirit of the Huguenots is not vanquished. With a 
sudden impulse the whole army hailed the prince 
of Navarre as its leader. This time his mother 
gave her assent, and the young Henry was saluted 
on the spot as commander-in-chief. 

" Soldiers," said the boy, " your cause is mine. 
Our interests are identical. I swear to you by the 
salvation of my soul, by my honor and my life, never 
to abandon you ! " 

By the queen's order the young Conde took the 
same oath. Henry was at once proclaimed chief, 
but his command was to be exercised under the 
guidance of Coligny. After they had taken the 
oaths Jeanne presented her son and her nephew 
to each other as brothers-in-arms. 

But amid the general joy at the court of France, 
a small cloud was rising which was soon to darken 
the whole horizon ; within this shadow the royal 
armies were to march henceforward against their 
foes. Charles IX, hated with deadly hatred his 
vain, handsome, and infamous brother, Henry, 
Due d'Anjou, and the favor shown by his mother 
toward her younger son only added fuel to the fire 
of Charles's passions. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 271 

In all the subsequent civil wars, and the atti- 
tude of the court toward the Huguenots, this 
hatred and jealousy must be taken into account. 
They produced an almost total alienation between 
the king and his mother ; they interfered with, 
and often frustrated, the movements of the royal 
generals ; they largely contributed to that famous 
treaty of peace entered into between the French 
court and Coligny, which afterward proved so fatal 
to the Huguenots. 

A terrible civil war now raged in Beam, although 
there is not space here to enter into the long story 
of the misery and madness which at this time filled 
Jeanne's territories. Her patience was at last 
worn out. The generosity with which she had 
borne and forgiven her injuries was unexampled 
in the history of sovereigns. Revenge was a 
quality utterly foreign to her nature. But the 
cruel stories which reached her in the old fortified 
town of Rochelle wrung tears of grief and indig- 
nation from the proud woman. She heard of her 
ravaged territories, of her towns sacked and pil- 
laged by the fierce soldiers of Charles IX., of the 
misery to which her subjects were reduced. Her 
capital city of Pau had surrendered to the victors, 
and nothing now remained to her of her ancient 
kingdom but the stronghold of Navarrenz, which 
was already besieged, 

Driven to desperation, Jeanne resolved at all 
hazards to deliver her kingdom, and in order to 
do this she appointed the Count de Montgomery 



272 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

commander-in-chief of her armies, bestowing on 
him unlimited powers. This appointment was the 
one most likely to secure the ends she had in view. 
Montgomery was one of the bravest as well as 
one of the most pitiless of the Huguenot chieftains. 
It was his lance at the fatal lists in honor of the 
Spanish bridal which had deprived France of her 
king, made Catharine de Medici a widow, and 
placed her, until the death of her first son, at the 
mercy of the Guises. 

Montgomery had barely saved his head by his 
swift flight into England, where he had remained 
a refugee until the breaking out of the civil wars 
had summoned him to France. 

The queen of Navarre knew the character of 
the man to whom, in presence of her council, she 
gave the power of life and death over criminals in 
her kingdom. All mild measures had failed be- 
fore she invested with supreme authority one who 
would strike with merciless severity where he be- 
lieved it necessary. 

" Go, valiant Montgomery," exclaimed the 
queen, " go and deliver my people ! Smite the 
traitors, and those guilty nobles whom no past 
clemency has been able to subdue. Pardon my 
misguided subjects." 

The queen then received Montgomery's oath 
of allegiance. He promised her majesty "to per- 
ish in her service or win back her dominions." It 
must suffice to say here that he kept his word. 
The stories of his marvelous exploits seem to be- 



the Mother of the Bourdons. 273 

long to the lays and romances of medieval times 
— to the days of King Arthur and his knights, 
not to the quiet course of history : yet these sto- 
ries of swift marches, of wild charges, of super- 
human valor, are all true. 

Montgomery parted with the queen of Navarre 
in the pleasant June days. He swept like a flame 
across a country beset by five hostile armies. He 
knew there was a double price set on his head, not 
only as a traitor, but as the murderer of his king ; 
yet he mustered his own troops, and made a junc- 
tion with the queen's, his ranks unbroken ; all the 
hosts of his enemies had not stayed his progress. 
On the sixth of August he marched into Beam. 
A fortnight later he raised the siege of the queen's 
strongest fortress, routed the royal army, took its 
general and its rebel barons prisoners, and, finally, 
on the twenty-third of August the victor crowned 
his achievements by placing the standard of Albret 
once more on the castle of Pau. Afterward his 
terrible sword did its work on the traitors. There 
was no head so lofty that Montgomery feared to 
smite it. His severity infused a wholesome terror 
throughout the kingdom. 

At last the queen signed an amnesty, and having 
placed Beam under the command of its old and 
trusty governors, Jeanne ordered Montgomery to 
march with his victorious army to Condon, there 
to await her future orders. She also issued an 
edict which it is hardly possible for us who read 
it three centuries afterward to conceive of: " Her 



274 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

loving subjects were not, under pain of death, 
to recall or discourse of the past." Nothing but the 
condition of the country and the fierceness of the 
times could have justified the queen in a command 
so arbitrary, that even the imperious Tudors would 
not have dared to send such an edict from their 
throne. 

During Montgomery's triumphant career in 
Beam, Gaspard Coligny, the successor of Conde, 
had been summarily dealt with at the French 
court. A decree had been issued declaring him 
guilty of high treason and condemning him to 
death. That nothing should be left undone to 
affix infamy to his name and conduct, it was or- 
dered, in case the admiral was not previously ar- 
rested, that the sentence should be executed on 
his effigy. His estates were to be confiscated, his 
children degraded and pronounced plebeians, while 
a reward of fifty thousand crowns was offered for 
his apprehension, dead or alive. 

This sentence received the consent of the young 
king; but he forbade his Parliament to proceed 
against the queen of Navarre, her son, or her neph- 
ew, or to attaint the memory of the late Conde. This 
clemency, doubtless, was due to the great success 
of Montgomery in Beam ; still it cannot be de- 
nied that Catharine and the king often interposed 
to save Jeanne and the princes from the extreme 
penalty of their acts, as though they shrank from 
making the gulf impassible between them. 

It is difficult to sound Catharine's real motives 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 275 

through all the intricacies of her policy. She gen- 
erally reserved a last card to play in all her po- 
litical games. It can hardly be possible that her 
clemency arose from generosity or tenderness to- 
ward her husband's relatives ; at least Jeanne never 
gave the Italian woman credit for these sentiments ; 
she evidently believed no love for herself could ex- 
ist in the soul of Catharine de Medici. 

The famous battle of Moncontour took place in 
October. It terminated disastrously for Coligny, 
and again, as at Jarnac, D'Anjou won fresh laurels 
under his brother's generals, who in reality com- 
manded the royal army, and directed all its 
movements. The admiral's jaw was shattered by 
a pistol discharged in his face by the marquis of 
Baden. Notwithstanding the severity of his wound, 
Coligny remained in his saddle and shot his assail- 
ant dead on the spot ; but the fortunes of the bat- 
tle went against him on that dreadful day of Mon- 
contour, and the carnage which followed the rout 
of the Huguenots is too awful to relate. 

Perhaps the highest praise which can be given 
Henry d'Anjou, in all his weak, miserable, base 
life, is that on that terrible autumn battle field he 
did his best to quell the ferocity of his soldiers. 
He exerted himself to the utmost to stop the 
butchery, and his voice was heard in every part of 
the field in remonstrance and command. 

The Huguenots retreated to Niort ; poor Co- 
ligny, with his shattered jaw, was borne in a litter. 
His position was a most cruel one. He was unable 



276 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

to speak a word to justify himself, while his officers 
attributed the terrible defeat of Moncontour to 
the rash counsels of their leader. In his helpless 
condition the sufferings of the brave old warrior 
seemed almost to threaten his life. 

But relief was near. As soon as Jeanne d'Al- 
bret heard the tidings of the defeat at Moncontour 
she started for Niort, and arrived there safely, 
although perpetual perils beset her path. Coligny 
could only clasp her hand when she stood at his 
couch, as though an angel from heaven had de- 
scended to him. While he gazed on her the tears 
flowed over the stern warrior's cheeks. 

The isolated condition of Coligny, the attitude 
of the officers toward their chief, excited the ex- 
treme indignation of the queen. She expressed 
her feelings with her usual frankness ; but after 
her arrival in camp every thing was changed. 
Her words once more inspired the soldiers, while 
her presence and sympathy cheered the admiral, 
whose health soon began to rally. 

A council of war, over which Jeanne presided, 
was attended at Niort by all the princes. There 
was no hint of defeat in the resolutions which 
were now adopted. England, Scotland, Germany, 
Denmark were to be appealed to through envoys 
to send succor to a cause in which they had so 
much at stake. 

The queen also decided at this council that 
the princes, her son, and his cousin, should hence- 
forward share the real perils of the battle-field. 




Jeanne d'Albret by the Bedside of Cohgny. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 279 

Coligny had hitherto prevented their doing this on 
account of their youth and inexperience ; so they 
had always viewed the battles, in which no doubt 
they were eager enough to join, at a safe distance. 

The queen also promised to defend Rochelle in 
case of an attack from Anjou, and named Roche- 
foucauld as her lieutenant. She proposed at this 
time that admirable plan of campaign, which, aft- 
erward carried out, insured the ultimate success 
of the Huguenots. 

At the French court the dark cloud was grow- 
ing. The victory of Moncontour, the laurels of 
Anjou, only added to the discontent and jealousy 
of the king. The royal generals, after the long 
inaction of the summer, which had been largely 
due to the vacillating mandates of the court, en- 
treated that pursuit might be made after the Hu- 
guenot army, and that it should be at once exter- 
minated. 

The young king, with his pale, sickly face, and 
his wild eyes, listened, but he would not heed the 
counsels of his veteran generals. In vain they 
represented to the monarch that Coligny with his 
skill and valor would soon retrieve his late disas- 
ters ; that, with another spring, he would be in 
the field with fresh forces, having made a junc- 
tion with Montgomery, and perhaps he would 
beard the king in Paris itself! 

It was wise counsel, but Charles turned a deaf 
ear to it. He peremptorily ordered his brother 
to besiege St. Jean d'Angely, and announced his 



280 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

own intention of soon joining the camp to superin- 
tend operations in person. Meanwhile the Hugue- 
nots rallied at leisure from their defeat. 

Already the conduct of the young king began 
to give his mother great anxiety. His paroxysms 
of rage against his brother, his defiance of her au- 
thority, his fits of sullen gloom, and the slow loss 
of her once all-powerful influence over him, filled 
her with alarm. Still she knew the extent of her 
power and fascination over the tempestuous, ill- 
balanced mind of her son, and, with her subtle 
tact and her fine understanding of his moods and 
weaknesses, she trusted she should always be able 
to maintain her hold upon him. 

At last the army broke up in Niort, and, con- 
ducted by Coligny, reached its winter-quarters at 
Agen in safety. According to Jeanne d'Albret's 
plan of the campaign for the ensuing spring the 
troops were to unite their standards with Mont- 
gomery, and make the south-western provinces of 
France the theater of next year's wars. The queen 
herself retired to Rochelle ; vast stores of arms, 
ammunition, and provisions were conveyed into 
the city, so that it was in a condition to withstand 
a protracted siege. 

Meanwhile the royal army wasted its strength 
before St. Jean d'Angely. At the opening of the 
winter the place capitulated to the king, but not 
until it had cost him ten thousand troops and one 
of his bravest generals. 

Charles, with his mother, the Duke D'Anjou, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 281 

and the cardinal of Lorraine, made his entry in 
triumph into the town the day after the capitula- 
tion, but he soon wearied of a camp life with its 
monotony. The society of his mother and his 
brother oppressed his spirits like a nightmare. 
He felt that he was a king only in name, while he 
could see no way to deliver himself from the toils 
in which Catharine held him ; so he retired from 
the camp in sullen discontent, to brood over his 
wrongs or to burst into fits of jealous rage, which 
threw his feeble frame into convulsions, and made 
him an object of dread to all around him. 

Coligny and Montgomery, a formidable pair, 
were now ravaging the southern portions of France, 
while Jeanne's disaffected subjects had once more 
taken courage after the defeat at Moncontour, and 
again raised the banner of revolt ; but the govern- 
ors, following the example which Montgomery 
had set them, took such stern measures to subdue 
the rebellion that it was at last effectually stamped 
out. 

It seems incredible that amid her overwhelming 
cares the queen of Navarre found time to super- 
vise the publication of a New Testament, translat- 
ed into the Basque dialect for the use of her sub- 
jects. The work was done under her auspices by 
the chaplains of her household. It was published 
the following year, and several copies are still in 
existence, affording ample evidence of the skill 
and diligence of the queen and her chaplains. It 

is no wonder that the health of the frail woman 
18 



282 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

soon sank under burdens which the strongest man 
could hardly have borne. 

Despite the victories of her favorite Anjou, the 
heart of Catharine was ill at ease. The country 
was devastated, the princes were exhausted. In 
the south, Coligny and Montgomery, unsubdued 
by their past misfortunes and with powerful ar- 
mies at their command, menaced the kingdom 
with still further humiliations and miseries. But 
the attitude of the king was, perhaps, Catharine's 
chief source of anxiety at this time. His grow- 
ing distrust of his mother, his bursts of insane 
fury if she opposed or countermanded his or- 
ders, his deadly animosity toward his brother, on 
whom Catharine had centered her strongest hopes 
and ambitions, all warned her that she had better 
attempt to placate the party in arms before her 
coveted power had slipped from her hands. 

She set once more about making overtures to 
the queen of Navarre. She believed that the 
woman who reigned at Rochelle was the ruling 
spirit of the Huguenot party, and despite her fear 
and dread of Jeanne, she had always shrunk from 
making her an irreconcilable foe. Catharine now 
addressed the queen in terms of the warmest 
affection. She enlarged on her desire for peace to 
the distracted country, and offered to use all her 
influence in seconding any proposals which should 
be made to the king by his subjects now in arms 
against him. 

Catharine's messages took Jeanne wholly by 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 283 

surprise. She had not anticipated this sudden 
change in the temper of the court, but she was not 
for a moment cajoled or deceived. Her reply was 
most dignified and cautious. She solemnly affirmed 
her ardent longing for peace, but she did not 
hesitate here, as always, to express the truth. 
She avowed her utter disbelief in the good faith 
of the court, and justified her doubts by fearlessly 
adducing some proofs, which had lately come to 
her knowledge, of the double-dealing with the 
Huguenots. 

Catharine's envoy must have found these truths 
most unpalatable. Thus far his mission had evi- 
dently been a failure. His next step was to repair 
to Coligny's head-quarters. Perhaps the bluff old 
admiral, not yet recovered from his wound, would 
be more easily worked upon than the clear-eyed, 
fearless woman. 

Catharine's envoy was received at head-quarters 
with most irritating coolness. During the inter- 
view which followed his arrival, Coligny actually 
had the audacity to declare that it was evidently 
necessary that the army should approach Paris in 
order to induce the king to do justice to his sub- 
jects of the Reformed faith. 

The demands of the queen of Navarre, the 
Princes, and the Huguenot party were so simply 
just and right, that it seems incredible any body 
could for a moment have thought of denying 
them. They asked for religious liberty, the restora- 
tion of their civil rights, their dignities and estates. 



284 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

These demands, which were only rights, appeared 
so enormous to the bigotry of the court that they 
were at once rejected, while Catharine's mortifica- 
tion and rage over the failure of her diplomacy 
were unbounded. These were not diminished 
when, early in the following June, the Huguenots 
gained a decided victory near the village of Lucon. 
Five hundred of the enemy, mostly officers, were 
left dead on the field of battle. 

Not long afterward the queen of Navarre had a 
hair-breadth escape from capture by her enemies. 
It was to be the last of her perils of this nature, 
and here, as always, it seemed little less than a 
miracle which saved her. One day she left Ro- 
chelle for exercise and change of air, which her 
failing health so much required, and proceeded to 
La Font, about half a league from the city, intend- 
ing to pass the night. 

After her arrival, however, some circumstance 
too trifling, it appears, to be recorded, induced her 
to return to the city. It was well that she did so. 
Gailliard, the commander of the royal forces at 
the battle near Lucon, burning with shame over 
his defeat, left the place where he had taken refuge 
after the combat, and, with seven hundred cavalry, 
marched during the summer night upon La Font, 
intending to take the queen prisoner, and by this 
exploit retrieve his losses at Lucon. But he was 
too late. The queen was safe within the strong 
walls of Rochelle. 

But this attempt made a profound impression 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 285 

upon Jeanne and the Huguenots. No confidence, 
the queen again affirmed, could be reposed in the 
word or the honor of Catharine de Medici. When 
she made the most ardent avowals of her desire for 
peace, she was secretly at work trying to overthrow 
the party she attempted to conciliate. 

The Huguenot army meanwhile continued on 
their victorious route toward Paris. As they 
marched on through the provinces fair with the 
waving fields and blossoming roses of that old 
June, nothing opposed their progress. 

The ravages of the troops were terrible. Behind 
them they left a track of blackened country. It 
is sickening to read how the " inhabitants were 
decimated, the churches burned, the towns de- 
serted and battered." War in those days was 
conducted with pitiless barbarity on both sides. 

Among the last days of June the army encamped 
near Paris. A terrible panic seized the city ; 
the inhabitants prepared for flight. Catharine, 
nearly beside herself with rage and despair, per- 
ceived that nothing could save the capital but 
timely concession to the Huguenots. 

The queen-mother must have felt her position 
at this time a most perilous one. She feared that 
England, as well as all the Protestants of Europe, 
would listen to the cry of their brothers-in-arms, 
unite together, and march to their deliverance into 
the heart of France. 

Charles, meanwhile, manifested the utmost in- 
difference to the war that was desolating his king- 



286 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

dom, and spent whole days in wild hunting among 
the dense forests of Bretagne. With the terrible 
sarcasm of which he was master, the young king 
alluded to his brother's victories, and contrasted 
the skill of the Huguenot generals with the failures 
of his own commanders. Then, too, he was always 
praising the prince of Navarre, and, to his mother's 
jealous horror, lauding his ability, frankness, honor, 
and contrasting these with the characters and 
habits of his own brothers. 

" Henry is the only one of my race who loves 
me, and I love him," was often his concluding re- 
mark as with white, trembling lips and sullen brow, 
and eyes fiery with wrath, the tall, pallid-faced 
monarch left his mother's cabinet. 

In his paroxysms of fury no one dared to accost 
him ; even Catharine had to sit silent while the wild 
storm passed by ; but her time was sure to come 
when Charles, exhausted in body and mind by his 
emotions, was an easy prey to the arts and wiles 
of his mother. 

Driven to desperation at last, Catharine entered 
into eager negotiations for peace. This time she 
was sincere. She found herself forced into con- 
ceding all that the Huguenots had demanded 
from the beginning. 

This important crisis of French history requires 
a volume to do it justice, and our limits hardly 
allow it a few sentences. It must suffice to say that 
the peace, afterward so fatal to the Huguenots, 
was concluded. The bells pealed joyfully in Ro- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 287 

chelle, the guns were fired from the ramparts, 
and the people filled the air with shouts for king 
Charles, the queen of Navarre, and her gallant son. 

But amid the general rejoicings, the heart of 
Jeanne d'Aibret was burdened with anxieties and 
doubts. She could not share Coligny's sanguine 
belief in the good faith of the court. She knew 
that the peace had been wrested from Catharine 
de Medici almost at the point of the bayonet. 

When the army was once disbanded Jeanne 
saw that both herself and her son would be at the 
mercy of the queen-mother. No fair promises 
could remove the queen of Navarre's inveterate 
distrust, no appeals or entreaties induce her to 
return to the court. With a sad heart she saw the 
Huguenot army dispersed ; its soldiers full of joy 
and eagerness to return once more to their homes 
and families. But to Jeanne d'Aibret the truce 
so lately concluded seemed a hollow one, and the 
peace which had suddenly fallen upon the land 
only a brief and treacherous calm. 

In the middle of September the queen took her 
departure from Rochelle, the city where the most 
glorious as well as the darkest hours of her life 
had been passed. Jeanne bade adieu to the old 
town amid the blessings of its citizens. She was 
accompanied by her children, by the prince of 
Conde, and a numerous suite. She was going 
back in triumph to the abode of her ancestors — to 
see once more the banner of Albret float proudly 
over the castle of Pan. She had hardly expected 



288 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

ever again to look upon the beloved home of her 
beautiful mother. But, amid all the joy of her re- 
turn, her heart was haunted by misgivings which 
time was soon to justify; yet for her the end was 
not now far off. The long rest and peace were 
making ready for Jeanne d'Albret. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 289 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SOME time before the queen of Navarre left 
Rochelle, the admiral, Coligny, made what 
afterward proved the great mistake of his life; he 
yielded to the persuasions of Catharine and Charles, 
and went to the French court, which had so lately 
branded him as traitor, confiscated his possessions, 
and set a price on his head. 

It was a most imprudent step. In vain Jeanne 
d'Albret, whose character he almost worshiped, 
and whose word was all-powerful with him, sol- 
emnly warned him of his danger ; in vain his 
brothers-in-arms added their entreaties to the 
queen of Navarre ; in vain, too, his newly-wedded 
wife, the countess d'Entrement, besought him not 
to disregard these prayers; he would not heed 
even the woman whose imagination and heart had 
been won by his generous valor before she had 
seen him, and who had left her beautiful home in 
Savoy, and her vast dominions there, to give her 
hand to the illustrious outlaw in Rochelle. 

The brave, generous character of Gaspard de 
Coligny had one fatal defect, and that was its 
rashness. He probably could not conceive of a 
nature like Catharine de Medici's ; and open and 
honest himself, the gallant soldier was the more 
liable to be caught in the snares which intrigue 



290 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

and vengeance might lay for him. Like all men 
of his type, his mind once made up, he was not to 
be moved. 

On the surface nothing could be fairer than the 
promises and representations of the young king 
and his mother, a fact which only tended to aug- 
ment the alarm of Jeanne d'Albret. Charles, how- 
ever, dissipated the last suspicions which may have 
lingered in Coligny's mind by granting him per- 
mission to come to the court with a body-guard of 
fifty men-at-arms. The stern old warrior actually 
shed tears when he received this proof of what he 
regarded as the good faith of his sovereign, and 
after this no appeals could shake his purpose. 

Coligny's soul was filled with one passion at this 
time, and that was to lead a French army into 
the Netherlands to aid his great contemporary, 
William of Orange, now in the thick of that long, 
glorious contest which has immortalized his mem- 
ory. Coligny's ambition was the noblest which 
could inspire a man. He burned with heroic ar- 
dor to rush to the help of his brothers-in-arms 
who were fighting for their faith and their free- 
dom ; he believed that the junction of the two ar- 
mies would destroy the power of Spain in the 
Low Countries ; and Spain was the deadly enemy 
of Protestant Europe. 

Coligny fondly hoped that his presence at court 
and his influence over the young king would ac- 
complish the object he had so much at heart. It 
was a daring but noble role which he proposed to 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 291 

himself; but he did not take sufficiently into ac- 
count all the obstacles in the way of its accom- 
plishment : the weaknesses and passions of the 
young king; the character of his mother; the 
power she exercised over him ; or the implacable 
hatred of the court. 

To the queen of Navarre's final expostulations 
Coligny replied, " No, no, madame, I confide firm- 
ly in the word and honor of my king. Life is no 
longer life to exist in the midst of perpetual fears. 
I would rather die, madame, struck down by one 
swift blow, than live a hundred years, the slave of 
constant dread and apprehensions." There spoke 
the brave, careless soldier, the leader of a hundred 
battles ! It was his destiny, and he went his way; 
but those who listened to his words at that time 
must have remembered them long afterward, when 
events had given them a fatal significance. 

The celebrated meeting between Coligny and 
his sovereign took place at Blois, in June 1571, 
about fourteen months before the massacre of St. 
Bartholomew, a fact always to be borne in mind. 
Nothing could exceed the graciousness of Coligny 's 
reception when, in accordance with the etiquette 
of courts, the gray-haired warrior knelt to do hom- 
age to the crowned youth. Charles raised him 
with an embrace, and tenderly saluted him as " My 
father ! " The queen-mother was there also. She 
stood, bland and gracious, between her two sons, 
the princes of Valois, to greet, with all her charms 
of presence and manner, the great Huguenot, 



292 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

whose generous faith had placed him again in her 
power. From that day any echoes of Jeanne d'Al- 
bret's warnings which may have haunted Coligny's 
thoughts were silenced. 

That summer of 15 71 went peacefully over 
France. The harvest was gathered amid the 
songs of the reapers, and the vineyards ripened, 
and all the clash and tumult of civil war were 
hushed in the land. 

The queen of Navarre left Rochelle amid the 
tearful farewells of the people, and proceeded 
peacefully with her children to her own territo- 
ries. It was almost October before she made her 
entrance into Pau. That day and that scene were 
probably the happiest which remained to her on 
earth. The joy of her people was unbounded as 
they looked once more on the fair, noble face of 
their sovereign. They must have marked with 
pain how sad and worn it had grown in those long 
trying months at Rochelle ; but it shone now with 
light and happiness as her people surrounded her 
with acclamations and welcomes ; she mingled her 
glad tears with their shouts of greeting as she 
passed once more under the shadow of the dear 
banners of Pau. But rest, although it was very 
near, did not await Jeanne d'Albret there. 

Before she had left Rochelle envoys from 
Charles IX. had visited the queen of Navarre, 
bringing overtures which greatly startled her, these 
being no less than a distinct proposition for the 
marriage of the prince with Marguerite of Valois, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 293 

Charles's youngest sister, to whom Henry had been 
betrothed in his infancy. It was a splendid bait 
with which to tempt a mother, the dearest ambi- 
tion of whose heart was the aggrandizement of her 
noble boy ; but Jeanne was not moved for a mo- 
ment by all the glory of the offer. She still sus- 
pected that it vailed some sinister design of the 
queen-mother to get her once more in her power, 
and deprive her of freedom or of life. 

Jeanne's replies to the envoys were, therefore, as 
evasive and reluctant as the respect she owed to 
such an offer from her sovereign permitted. She 
assigned the nearness of kin, and the differences 
of religion, as insuperable obstacles to the union, 
and she remained firm in her decision not to visit 
the French court. Yet the hand thus almost 
forced upon the prince of Navarre belonged to 
one of the most beautiful women in Europe. 
Marguerite of Valois was, at this time, in the full 
bloom of that loveliness which fascinated all who 
gazed upon it. 

Many portraits of the princess still exist. There 
now are to be seen that lovely complexion, those 
eyes of dazzling blue, with the beautiful black hair 
of her handsome father, but in her features one 
can trace a resemblance to her Italian mother. 

The princess gave evidence at this time of some 
fine and generous qualities of character; but the 
youngest of the daughters of Valois had inherited 
the vices of her race, and the corrupt influences 
of her mother's court had breathed their fatal 



294 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

blight on her young soul. She lived to be the 
last of her house and name ; but her long career, 
despite those glimpses of a better nature which 
shone out at intervals to the end of her life, was 
one of shame and ignominy, which cannot be relat- 
ed here. There is no doubt that the heart of the 
beautiful Marguerite had suffered at this time the 
cruelest blow which it ever endured, and which, 
probably, had an unhappy effect upon her future 
character and conduct. 

Henry of Guise, the son of that Francis who 
had once been the ardent suitor of Jeanne d'Albret, 
had inherited all his father's graces of person and 
intellect, while he was yet to prove himself in force 
of character, and in all those qualities which fit a 
man to be a leader among men greatly the 
superior of his illustrious father. At the court of 
Catharine he shone conspicuous among all the 
cavaliers, and he possessed every quality of person 
and mind likely to fascinate the hearts and imagi- 
nations of the women of that time. There seems 
to be no doubt that he had won the love of the 
beautiful princess and returned it with ardor. 
Himself the great grandson of Louis XII., he as- 
pired to win her hand, as his kinsman, the duke of 
Lorraine, had already won that of her sister, Claude. 

But Henry d'Anjou was the deadly foe of the 
house of Lorraine, and he was resolved that the 
youngest of his sisters should never wed one of 
that race. By a course of the most dastardly per- 
secution of the princess, and by false representa- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 295 

tions to his brother, the king, he succeeded in pre- 
venting the marriage, and Guise, in order to save 
his life during one of the king's fits of fury, was 
married in great haste to the daughter of the duke 
de Nevers, and niece of Antoine de Bourbon. 

Catharine, too, threw her powerful influence into 
the scale which decided her daughter's destinies. 
She dreaded any increase of the already enormous 
power of the Lorraine-Guises. But the loss of her 
lover, and the cruel persecutions of her brother, 
brought on an illness which nearly cost Margue- 
rite her life, and she henceforward cherished the 
most unappeasable hatred for her brother. 

When Henry ascended the throne he encoun- 
tered his deadliest foe in the duke of Guise, who 
aspired to his crown, and filled the life and reign 
of the wretched monarch, the last of the Valois, 
with misery and infamy. 

Jeanne d'Albret was not long permitted to re- 
main in peace at Pau. The overtures for her son's 
marriage were soon renewed by the French court 
with redoubled eagerness and pertinacity. 

Catharine, who now had Coligny's ear, had used 
all her arts to bring the admiral over to her views 
regarding this marriage, and he espoused it with 
his usual ardor. The various Huguenot chiefs 
would be likely to follow the opinions of their 
great leader, and many of them already began to 
look with favor on this marriage as the only bond 
of lasting peace between the two great religious 
parties in France. 



296 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Nobody can wonder at this. Catharine's argu- 
ments were most plausible, and could not fail to 
impose more or less on all who heard them. It 
seemed impossible to doubt her solemn profes- 
sions of good faith; her eagerness to close, by this 
marriage of Bourbon and Valois, the series of 
dreadful civil wars which had desolated her son's 
kingdom. But the queen of Navarre's prophetic 
soul only regarded the proposed union with aug- 
mented repugnance. Her distrust increased with 
the eagerness of the court. She feared that some 
deadly purpose lurked behind all these promises, 
and that in due time the mask would be dropped. 

" Why," she continually asked her own soul, 
" did the king and his mother persist in thus forc- 
ing the last princess of Valois on the young heir 
of Beam ? There was no splendor or aggrandize- 
ment for her in this union with her cousin." 
Whatever fine talk there might be about patriot- 
ism and the union of the hostile parties, Jeanne 
knew that Catharine was actuated in her whole 
policy by no motives but personal and selfish 
ones. 

The queen of Navarre's penetration was baffled 
at this time in discovering Catharine's real pur- 
pose ; but this fact only added to her fears of foul 
play. It is a curious circumstance that this ques- 
tion of Catharine's real intentions, made so impor- 
tant by later events, has also baffled the researches 
of historians for the last three hundred years. A 
cloud of mystery envelops Catharine's policy at 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 297 

this time. It will probably now never be lifted. It 
hardly seems possible that the general features of 
the massacre of St. Bartholomew — that drama 
written in the best blood of the Huguenots — 
could have been conceived at this juncture, or 
that her daughter's bridal should have formed its 
opening act. 

The queen-mother was not a woman capable of 
broad, statesmanlike views. No one who is thor- 
oughly selfish can be. She had no higher policy 
than tacking and veering as the wind blew from 
one quarter or another. She lived and reigned by 
intrigue. 

At this period all went smoothly for the Hugue- 
nots. They were admitted to court. Coligny, 
the greatest of them, was flattered by every pos- 
sible mark of royal confidence and favor ; under 
the influence of these impressions he took leave 
of the king, and retired to his bride and his home 
at Chatillon. But he was not permitted long 
to remain there. A summons from Charles IX. 
brought the admiral back to the court ; here the 
union of the prince and the king's sister was the 
principal topic of each interview ; while Charles 
constantly deplored the obstinacy of the queen of 
Navarre in still refusing to visit her relatives. 

Catharine artfully represented Jeanne as the 
insuperable obstacle to peace. She insisted that 
so long as the queen of Navarre stood aloof cold 
and suspicious; so long as she refused for her 
son the royal hand so graciously held out to him, 
19 



298 The Protestant Queen of JVavarre, 

there could be no real security of feeling between 
the court and the Huguenots ; the old doubts, sus- 
picions, and bitterness must rankle in the hearts 
of both parties. This reasoning, enforced by all 
Catharine's plausibility, imposed on Coligny, as 
it did on all the leading Huguenots, who were ad- 
mitted to the queen -mother's presence. 

Charles, too, was in appearance as eager as his 
mother for the marriage of his sister and his cousin. 
It is still a mooted question how far he showed his 
real feelings at this crisis. But it seems most like- 
ly that he was not acting a part. He was deeply 
aggrieved with his mother ; he resented her con- 
trol, and panted to break loose from it forever. 
He treated Coligny as a son would a dear and ven- 
erated father. All the best qualities of that pas- 
sionate, wavering nature seemed kindled by the 
old chieftain, whose fiery soul and outspoken hon- 
esty formed such a contrast to the trained cour- 
tiers who surrounded the throne. 

Charles depended on Coligny ; he made him his 
friend and councilor. He showed the outlawed 
traitor, so lately in arms against his sovereign, 
every conceivable honor before the court. Carried 
away on the fiery tide of Coligny 's eloquence, the 
martial instincts of his race, the old hatred of 
Spain, awoke within him ; he burned to emulate 
the prowess of his father and grandfather; he act- 
ually promised to pour succors across the frontiers 
to the aid of the Protestants ; he, the Catholic king 
of France ! 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 299 

Charles more than once attempted to put Co- 
ligny on his guard. At a private interview, when 
the admiral was arranging with his young sover- 
eign the details of the campaign in the Nether- 
lands, the latter said very earnestly, " My mother 
must not be told of this enterprise. She would 
spoil it." 

Coligny, in turn, avowed the utmost confidence 
in Catharine's affection for her son. He declared 
his belief that she would second all their efforts in 
the coming war, which it would be almost impos- 
sible to conceal from her knowledge. 

Charles listened in scornful incredulity. " I per- 
ceive you do not yet know my mother," he said 
significantly. " Nevertheless I tell you the truth ; 
she is the greatest mischief-maker on the face of 
the earth ! " 

Such a warning from such a source ought to 
have startled the admiral ; but his amazing cre- 
dulity at this time affords the highest proof of Cath- 
arine's power to deceive those whom she wished to 
draw into her toils. Coligny's blindness is, how- 
ever, partially accounted for by his entire absorp- 
tion in the projected war. Yet there is no doubt 
Catharine herself was in great anxiety at this 
time. She saw her influence over her son, both 
in private and at the council-board, superseded by 
Coligny. 

Charles treated his mother with increasing con- 
tempt and aversion, and she began at last to fear 
the loss of her cherished power and her ignomin- 



300 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

ious dismissal from the court. There was nothing 
she was not ready to do to retain the one and 
prevent the other. 

She knew the long force of habit, and the 
strength of her influence over her son. No one 
had her cunning skill to work on his fears, to rouse 
his temper into that wild fury which made a mad- 
man, for the time, of the king of France. The 
forming of his character, the studying of his 
moods, had been the work of her life. Calm, subtle, 
watchful, she patiently bore the contempt and an- 
ger Charles constantly displayed toward herself; 
but she was biding her time, and when it came, 
there would be found neither honor, pity, or re- 
morse in the soul of Catharine de Medici ! 

As one draws near the great historic tragedy 
whose black darkness closed so suddenly over 
France, the very air becomes thick with suspicion, 
intrigue, and plot, which would fill volumes. One 
fact, however, cannot be too strongly insisted on: 
the eagerness of the king and Coligny for the mar- 
riage of Bourbon and Valois daily augmented, and 
at last the Huguenot chieftains, in a body, gave in 
their adhesion to this union and became clamorous 
for it. 

They all believed that this bridal of Catholic 
and Huguenot could alone avert the horrors of 
another civil war in France. Catharine did her 
best to augment this conviction. She insisted that 
the king could not enforce the execution of his 
edicts, or content the kingdom, while the queen 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 301 

of Navarre's doubtful attitude, and her refusal to 
come to court, inspired misgivings as to the good 
faith of the sovereign. 

Catharine made the utmost, too, of Jeanne's re- 
lations with the queen of England. She dwelt 
on her pertinacious refusal to accept the high 
honor which Charles had done the prince in 
offering him the hand of his sister, the youngest 
and fairest of the daughters of Valois ; with con- 
summate art she touched the key-note, sure to re- 
spond in Coligny's soul, when she insinuated to 
him that the war in aid of the Protestants in 
Flanders could never be undertaken while the 
attitude of the queen of Navarre gave the court 
such reason to doubt the ultimate designs of the 
house of Albret. 

Catharine's representations produced their ef- 
fect. The Huguenot chieftains who had served 
the queen of Navarre so long and faithfully at Ro- 
chelle, who knew what sacrifices she had made, 
what perils she had encountered for their cause, 
were actually talked into a belief that her reluc- 
tance to bestow her son's hand on the king's sister 
proceeded from personal ambition ; they suspected 
that she grasped at further power, and meant 
to extort more favorable conditions for heresy 
than those already so generously granted by the 
French court. 

The discontent and indignation fomented by 
Catharine became general. The Huguenot leaders- 
exclaimed against the personal ambition which 



302 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

could thus hold itself against the peace of a king- 
dom, and the clamor for the marriage which would 
set the doubts and fears of both parties at rest 
became louder and wider spread each day. 

Coligny himself wrote, entreating Jeanne to 
consent to the union of Henry with Marguerite. 
He urged her to hasten at once to court. "You 
have nothing to apprehend," wrote the admiral. 
" The king will smooth every obstacle, even that 
of religious difference." And again, knowing that 
the queen regarded the campaign in aid of the 
Flemish Protestants as the true test of the sincer- 
ity of the court, Coligny wrote, " The king has so 
set his heart en this war that every day it is de- 
layed seems to him a hundred years." 

Thus beset on every side, what was Jeanne 
d'Albret to do ? Nothing could allay her suspi- 
cions of foul play at bottom. She may not have 
doubted the sincerity of Charles while he was 
under the contagious influence of Coligny 's elo- 
quence. But she had not studied in vain the 
young king's stormy, undisciplined nature, and she 
knew what reserves of power his mother held over 
him. In dealing with the monarch, the vindictive, 
remorseless soul of the woman behind the throne 
must always be taken into account. There could 
be no reckoning without that host. 

In vain Catharine sent courteous messages and 
tender greetings. " Gratify, I beseech you, madame, 
the extreme desire which we all feel to welcome 
you in this company," ran the Italian woman's 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 303 

smooth words. " You will here be loved and hon- 
ored, as it is meet you should be considering who 
you are." But behind all these fair promises 
lurked, to Jeanne's vision, the watchful, waiting 
fiend, ready to spring on its victim. 

Of all the women in the world Jeanne knew that 
Catharine feared and hated her as the one who 
had penetrated her real designs, who had outwitted 
and frustrated her. " Can the queen who never 
forgives, forgive me ? " she asked again and again 
with solemn earnestness. 

But neither Catholic or Huguenot would leave 
her in peace. With the opening of the new year 
another formal embassy from Charles arrived at 
Pau, to treat with the queen regarding the marriage 
of her son with his cousin. It was empowered to 
generously restore every advantage which the king 
had gained over Jeanne in the late war, and to 
make every concession to her religious scruples in 
order to promote the union the king so ardently 
desired. Charles even went so far as to promise 
that the marriage ceremonies of the prince of 
Navarre and his sister should be conducted in 
accordance with the Reformed ritual, an almost 
incredible concession. Aware, also, of the queen's 
repugnance to meeting her implacable enemy, the 
cardinal of Lorraine, Charles had sent him on a 
mission to Rome, so that his absence would be 
insured during Jeanne's sojourn at court. 

Thus besieged on all sides, the queen, as a last re- 
source, summoned a council of State, before whom 



304 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

she laid the proposals of the French king, hoping 
that they would be rejected by the nobles of 'her 
principality. But Francourt, chancelor of Navarre, 
had been won over by Coligny and the representa- 
tions of the court. When he rose to speak, to the 
queen's great dismay, he advocated the Bourbon- 
Valois marriage, and in a speech of great length 
and eloquence he dilated on the immense advan- 
tage which would accrue to the Huguenots from 
this union. His fervor at last carried over the whole 
assembly to his side, and even prince Henry united 
with the nobles in beseeching his mother to give 
her consent to this union. 

Jeanne listened in mournful silence. At last 
she heaved a sigh whose bitterness only herself 
could fathom. "Alas!" she said, with touching 
sorrow, " I cannot depend on my friends ! " 

But further resistance was impossible, and Jeanne 
d'Albret always submitted to the inevitable. Her 
assent to the alliance of her son with Madame 
Marguerite was at last wrung from her, and this 
gained, she declared her intention of at once pro- 
ceeding to the French court to negotiate the mar- 
riage articles. But she could not conceal her 
heaviness of heart, the fears and forebodings which 
haunted her soul, as she set herself steadily to carry 
forward the programme which a cruel fate had 
forced upon her. Her real feeling was apparent 
when she again summoned her council and in- 
formed them of the measures she had taken in ac- 
cordance with their wishes. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 305 

" Messeigneurs," she said, significantly, "you 
well know whether it is for myself that I tremble." 

To their great surprise and displeasure, she an- 
nounced that the prince would not accompany 
her to court, but would remain in Beam, her lieu- 
tenant general and representative until his marriage 
was arranged and the contract signed. In vain 
the council remonstrated at this flagrant proof of 
Jeanne's distrust of the French court. She was 
immovable here, and in reply to all arguments 
calmly asserted her right as a sovereign to act her 
own pleasure in this matter. 

"My son," said the steady, resolute voice they 
had so often heard, they were soon to hear no 
more, "will stay in Beam until I summon him to 
me; and, moreover, he will remain surrounded by 
more than five hundred of our trusty and loyal 
adherents." 

At this time Henry proved himself the worthy 
son of his mother. No small effort was made to 
induce him not to remain behind at Beam, but to 
all persuasions he had one reply, which rendered 
further solicitation fruitless : " That is the com- 
mand of my mother." 

Early in January the queen left Pau. It was 
the last time. Jeanne d'Albret would never again 
cross the threshold of that beloved home, never 
again see the banner of Albret wave proudly from 
the ramparts ! An indescribable melancholy pos- 
sessed her. It seemed as though the dark shadow 
of the coming tragedy, now only a few months off, 



306 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

loomed out of the future, and dropped its awful 
gloom upon the soul of Jeanne d'Albret. Yet 
the world believed that she was going on a most 
joyful and triumphant mission ; that she would 
conclude an alliance which meant peace to 
France, security for the Huguenots, and honor 
and splendor for her name and race. 

But there was an expression in the worn, sor- 
rowful face of the queen of Navarre which struck 
all beholders with grief. A great change had come 
over it in these late days. It wore the weary, 
listless look which tells of sorrow and failing health, 
while her dark eyes alone retained all the fire and 
beauty of their youth. 

Many of her people seemed to share their queen's 
presentiment of coming evil. They followed her 
to the gates of the city, and even some distance 
outside ; so reluctant did they feel to look their 
last on that sad, beloved face. 

Jeanne proceeded at once to Nerac, where, in 
accordance with her previous summons, more than 
five hundred of the noblest peers of Navarre joined 
her. To these she solemnly confided the destinies 
of her son. In their presence she charged Henry 
to obey the counsels of those in whose care she 
left him, to undertake no enterprise without the 
consent of the nobles, and to let no representa- 
tions from any source induce him to visit the court 
until she sent for him. 

Every measure she took still proved that her 
suspicions were strong as ever. The young prince 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 307 

solemnly promised to obey every command of his 
mother, and through all temptations he faithfully 
kept his word. 

At Nerac, a few days later, the mother and son 
parted. They were never to see each other's faces 
again. He went back to Beam, and the queen, 
accompanied by her young daughter and a large 
suite, kept on her way to the French court — that 
way so soon to be one of doom to many of the 
noblest heads of Beam ! 

When Charles learned of the approach of his 
aunt he manifested a most unaccountable excite- 
ment. He laughed and jested madly with his 
courtiers. His mood seemed unnatural. The 
sharp rapiers of his wit at times spared nobody, 
not even the admiral and his friends. 

But his fiercest taunts were reserved for his 
mother and the duke d'Anjou. The calm, thor- 
oughly controlled face of Catharine de Medici 
grew livid at the contempt with which her son 
treated her before the whole court, while d'Anjou 
actually began to fear for his life, and withdrew as 
much as possible from the royal presence. 

The conduct of Charles and his mother at this 
time will always be a theme of interest to the his- 
torian, for the year of the awful tragedy had now 
opened. Every circumstance which could throw 
any light on that fatal day has been subjected to the 
most eager scrutiny. It does not seem probable 
that the plot had been already laid for the massacre 
which took place late in the following summer. 



308 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

It appears incredible that the ill-balanced, pas- 
sion-tossed soul of the young king could ever have 
carried itself with such seeming confidence and 
friendship toward the very men whose foul murder 
he was plotting. 

Neither could the alienation from his mother, 
the deadly distrust and hatred of his brother, have 
been assumed to disguise his purpose, for Charles 
drove d'Anjou out of France by forcing the un- 
willing duke to accept the crown and scepter of 
Poland; and although Catharine managed at the 
most important crisis to regain her ascendency 
over her son, the proud woman was obliged to 
submit to frequent contumely and insult ; and it is 
a fact that during the last years of the reign of 
Charles IX. the courtiers lived in expectation, as 
she probably herself did in dread, of her disgrace 
and banishment from court. 

This waning of the power so dear to her was, 
most likely, what drove Catharine de Medici at 
last to the night of St. Bartholomew. Could she, 
at the opening of the year which was to crown 
her name with blacker infamy than that of any 
other woman in history, have conceived the bloody 
programme, and was the queen of Navarre's pres- 
ence at court and the Bourbon-Valois marriage a 
part of it ? 

This is a question which three hundred years 
have been asking, and which this history, already 
exceeding its original limits, does not permit us to 
discuss. 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 309 

The French court of this new year, 1572, has an 
air thick with plot, intrigue, treachery ; yet most 
writers, who have groped their way through it, be- 
lieved that the massacre was suddenly conceived 
and desperately executed. But it cannot be denied 
that the Spanish councils and the league of Peronne 
must have caused Catharine's mind, in moments 
of rage and despair, to dwell on the possibility of 
this bloody denouement. Her imagination might 
sometimes gloat over the crime, but even her stern, 
remorseless soul must have shrunk from carrying 
it into execution. 

Doubtless Jeanne d'Albret was right in believ- 
ing that Catharine's eagerness for her daughter's 
marriage with the prince of Beam was simulated. 
Any thing which would aggrandize that young 
heir of the Bourbons, whom her faith in astrology 
had taught her to regard with secret dread as the 
successor to the crown and throne of her own 
sons, could not fail to be repugnant to Catharine 
de Medici. 

But the attitude of her son and the power of the 
Huguenot party forced her to appear consumed 
with anxiety for this union, and she was always 
equal to acting her part in a role of this sort. One 
woman only was not deceived. She believed that 
some secret motive lurked under all Catharine's 
specious talk ; but Jeanne probably tried at this 
time to hush the remonstrances of her own heart. 
She did not for an instant trust Catharine's profuse 
avowals of affection for herself; but she may have 



310 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

hoped that the queen-mother had been forced into 
regarding this Bourbon-Valois marriage as the 
only means of securing the peace of the kingdom, 
or maintaining her own authority at court. But 
that wonderful genius for reading the souls of men 
and women was alert, and on the watch now for 
all signs of danger. 

When the queen of Navarre and her suite had 
reached Tours they were suddenly met by a 
message from the king, entreating his aunt to re- 
main there, or retire to the castle of Plessis during 
the presence of the legate at court. He had just 
arrived from Rome with dispatches from the pope. 

The gloomy old castle, the home of her child- 
hood, had no pleasant associations for Jeanne, and 
she declined to repair to it ; while this untoward 
event and the message of the king did not seem 
an auspicious opening to the negotiations for which 
she had left home. Her real feeling shows itself 
through the quiet irony with which she wrote to 
her son : " They were all in a great hurry for my 
arrival at court, though they now make no great 
haste to see me." 

Coligny had also been requested to retire from 
court during the stay of the legate ; Charles in- 
sisting to the admiral that, " let the cardinal say 
and do what he would, the marriage of Marguerite 
with the prince of Beam should take place ! " And 
with this promise Coligny took his departure, ap- 
parently satisfied. 

The ladies of the court waited immediately 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 311 

upon the queen of Navarre at Tours. At the 
head of them was the queen-mother and her 
youngest daughter. 

Once more Catharine de Medici and Jeanne 
d'Albret looked upon each other's faces, and em- 
braced each other after the fashion of queens and 
kinswomen. 

One wonders what thoughts crowded upon the 
souls of both in that meeting ! The Italian would 
be sure to let none escape her; to hide beneath 
cordial greeting and tender manner her hatred of 
the woman who had read her inmost soul, and 
frustrated her dearest schemes. Jeanne must have 
looked with mingled curiosity and misgiving upon 
Marguerite of Valois, the beautiful young girl who 
bore her mother's name, and whom they were 
seeking to make her daughter-in-law. 

Marguerite had had her lesson. Nothing could 
be more amiable and gracious than her manner 
toward the queen of Navarre. " She has shown 
me every welcome and honor in her power to be- 
stow," wrote Jeanne to her son. "She has frank- 
ly confessed to me the agreeable impressions she 
has formed of you. With her beauty and her wit 
she exercises great influence over the queen-moth- 
er, the king, and her younger brothers." 

Yet at this very time Marguerite was nursing 
the bitterest revenge toward the duke d'Anjou, 
whose machinations had prevented her union with 
the man she loved ; she was also looking forward 
with extreme repugnance to her marriage with the 



3 1 2 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

prince of Beam, whom she regarded as the most 
powerful enemy of the duke of Guise. 

The very day after this meeting the conferences 
for the marriage opened. The inveterate differ- 
ences between the negotiating parties at once be- 
came apparent. The queen of Navarre wished 
her son, after the custom of monarchs in that age, 
to be married by proxy, and afterward to herself 
conduct the young bride to her husband at Pau. 

These propositions were most unpalatable to 
Catharine and her daughter. In the name of her 
son the queen-mother demanded that after the 
marriage was accomplished the prince and his 
bride should reside at the French court, that Mar- 
guerite should not attend the Huguenot services, 
and that while he remained with her family the 
prince should refrain from the public exercises of 
his religion. 

A proposition of this kind would not be likely 
to meet with favor from a woman like Jeanne 
d'Albret. Catharine dismissed it for the present, 
by proposing that they should confer on matters 
of dowry, revenue, and jewels. 

Filled with indignation at this treatment, and at 
the subterfuges which had been used to draw her 
to court for discussions of this sort, Jeanne, in 
her turn, proposed that the negotiations should be 
discontinued altogether. 

Her old faithful friend, the Baron de Rosny, 
supported her in this conclusion. " Madame," he 
vehemently exclaimed, " cut short the negotia- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 313 

ation while you may. Return to your own coun- 
try. Believe me, if these nuptials are ever cele- 
brated at Paris, the liveries worn on this occasion 
will be blood-colored." 

If his counsels had been heeded in time his 
tragic prophecy would never have been fulfilled. 
But Jeanne, having been forced by her friends into 
her present cruel position, resolved that her ene- 
mies should have no chance to hereafter accuse 
her of having withdrawn from conferences on 
which hung the future of France. She determined 
to see the king, and ascertain what influence she 
possessed over him. But a sentence or two in a 
letter to De Beauvoir, her son's governor, shows 
plainly enough her real feeling at this time. "I 
try not to let their evil dealings ruffle me. You 
know well the personages here. Suffice it, I trust 
them no more than I ever did." 

At length the king was at liberty, and entreated 
his aunt to repair at once to Blois, where the ne- 
gotiations for the marriage should be conducted to 
a happy close under his immediate supervision. 
Nothing could exceed the honor of the queen of 
Navarre's reception. She was met at the portal of 
the castle at Blois by the king and his court. The 
royal guard were under arms. The cannon thun- 
dered out their welcomes, and the bells pealed 
joyously between. Charles seemed transported 
with delight ; he frequently embraced the queen ; 
he called her "his good and dear aunt, his all, his 
best friend ! " Led by the king, she entered the 
20 



314 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

castle to find assembled there in the great hall 
the queen-mother and Marguerite, Elizabeth, the 
young Austrian bride of Charles, and all the prin- 
cipal ladies of the French court. 

There are historians, however, who believe that 
all this ceremony was only a part of the programme 
arranged between Charles and his mother, that the 
massacre of St. Bartholomew had already been 
decided on, and that on the very evening of the 
queen's arrival at Blois Charles said privately to 
his mother, " Well, madame, do I not act my part 
excellently well?" 

"Very well, my son," replied Catharine, "but 
it is nothing if you do not persevere." 

"Leave that to me, madame," rejoined the king. 
" You will see how well I will manage to thrust 
them all into our net ! " 

On the day following the negotiations for the 
marriage recommenced, Catharine still having the 
chief management of these. 

It is impossible now to enter into the details of 
those long, tedious conferences, although subse- 
quent events make them of great importance. It 
is enough to say here, that while treated with 
every possible outward demonstration of regard, 
the queen of Navarre found all her efforts and 
wishes thwarted and paralyzed by the queen- 
mother's management. 

Catharine took her cool, smooth Italian revenge 
at this time. It is a miserable story : it fills one 
with indignation now to think of the annoyances, 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 315 

the insults, the treacherous stabs to which the 
noble and generous Jeanne d'Albret was subjected 
by her bitterest enemy. Yet she bore all with mar- 
velous patience. She had come to the court firm- 
ly persuaded that nothing but concealed rancor, 
treachery, and covert insult awaited her there. 

So day after day that calm, patient face, grow- 
ing, alas ! thinner and paler, was seen at the coun- 
cil-board, where Jeanne had to bear the taunts 
and innuendoes of Catharine. But her decision 
and her self-command greatly served her own 
cause. The old ground of the prince of Beam's 
residence at court, and the prohibition of Protest- 
ant services, was all gone over again. 

Jeanne saw that it was a vital matter with Cath- 
arine to get the prince once more under her influ- 
ence, and within the gay, corrupt atmosphere of 
the court, from which she had once snatched him 
at such pains and peril. The mother knew her 
son; knew, despite all that was noble and gener- 
ous in his character, what weaknesses and vices 
he had inherited with the blood of the Bourbons ; 
and her heart sank at the thought of the influence 
which that fair, foul court would have on his young 
susceptible nature. 

So days went and nothing was done. Jeanne 
absolutely refused to summon her son to the court. 
All Catharine's wit, energy, ax\d. finesse were bent on 
this one point. It was the old warfare between 
the two : the craft of the Florentine ; the calm, 
resolute will of the French woman. 



3 1 6 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

Catharine hesitated at no falsehoods; she flatly 
denied her promises when it suited her policy to 
do so; she threw the blame of the protracted ne- 
gotiations on the queen of Navarre, and every day 
must have only increased Jeanne's knowledge and 
dread of the queen-mother's power and treachery. 
Hoping to find some encouragement for her sink- 
ing heart, she turned to the daughter, but here 
again the same evil influences were at work. She 
was not allowed to speak to the beautiful Margue- 
rite except in the saloons of her mother, and the 
young girl's whole manner and speech during their 
interviews showed she was acting under strict 
orders. 

At length the queen's patience was exhausted, 
and she resolved to submit no longer to the insults 
and malignity of Catharine. She, therefore, de- 
clared to the king that unless the marriage of his 
sister with her son was treated with the sincerity so 
grave a matter demanded she should at once re- 
tire from court. She also informed Catharine that 
these endless quibbles and discussions caused her, 
as well as the Huguenot chieftains, to doubt wheth- 
er the queen-mother's proposals had been made in 
good faith; she had, therefore, arrested the jour- 
ney of the prince, who was already on the way to 
join his mother, and had ordered him to return 
to Pau. Catharine's anger and consternation at 
these tidings cannot be described. She beheld 
all her schemes traversed by the same will and 
courage which had so often defeated them. Her 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 317 

plan was to draw the prince to court, to weave 
around him her spells of luxurious pleasure, and 
slowly and insidiously to undermine his reverence 
for his mother, and alienate him from her. 

Among other taunts which Jeanne was forced 
to endure from Catharine was that of the strict 
authority which she held over her son. The 
queen-mother insisted that if the prince were 
once allowed to visit the court, he would concede 
the religious differences which formed the sole ob- 
stacle to his union with the princess, and she 
dared Jeanne to put him to the proof by summon- 
ing him to the court. 

Charles, also, showed the utmost eagerness to 
see his cousin. He sent him frequent and pressing 
invitations to come and share his pleasures and 
grandeurs, " the huntings, the banquetings, the 
gayeties most likely to tempt him." 

But Henry was firm ; he knew the depth of his 
mother's love. He had the utmost faith in her 
wisdom. He was indignant at the treatment which 
she received, and he resolved implicitly to obey 
her counsels. 

He had come from Tarbes to La Rochelle when 
his mother's orders reached him. He at once 
turned back to Pau. In vain those about him most 
in the queen's confidence remonstrated, thinking 
it best for him to wait at Rochelle until she had re- 
peated her commands. Henry would not be moved. 

Charles now interfered with his characteristic 
impetuosity. He insisted that his aunt should 



3 1 8 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

take matters into her own hands, and consult 
whomsoever she pleased regarding the marriage of 
her son. He forbade his mother to interfere, ob- 
serving, with his usual bitterness, " that she always 
.managed to spoil every affair intrusted to her 
management." 

Sir Francis Walsingham was at this period min- 
ister to the court of France. Left free by the 
king's commands to select her own counselors, 
the queen of Navarre invited the great statesman, 
with a dozen other gentlemen, among whom were 
several Huguenot ministers, to dine with her. The 
marriage of her son was the one subject under dis- 
cussion at this banquet. 

The queen placed the matter before her guests 
in all its bearings. She repeated the prohibitions 
and promises of the court, and inquired whether 
she, a Protestant woman, could consent to the 
marriage of her son with a Catholic princess ? 

The discussion which followed was long and 
earnest. All felt the tremendous issues at stake, 
the importance of securing by this union the tran- 
quillity of France. The Huguenots were disposed 
to yield many points not of vital consequence ; 
but their faith was dearer to them than all that 
crowns or kingdoms could offer, and before the 
debate closed it was solemnly agreed that the 
queen could not consent to this marriage under 
the forms and with the reservations prescribed by 
the court, her conscience entirely confirming this 
decision, " So that now," adds the great states- 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 319 

man of Elizabeth, writing home of the affair in 
his quaint old English, " the marriage is generally 
holden for broken ; notwithstanding I am of a con- 
trary opinion, and do assuredly think that hardly 
any cause will make them break, so many neces- 
sary reasons there are why they should succeed." 

The great Englishman was right. Charles had 
set his heart on this marriage, whether to cement 
in a lasting peace the two great parties which di- 
vided his realm, or to deceive and work the ruin 
of one, only God knows ! 

But his exasperation was great at the obstacles 
which still interposed to prevent the union. No 
expression of his wrath, however, was directed 
toward the queen of Navarre. On the contrary, he 
treated her with increasing respect and affection, 
and daily assured her that nothing should prevent 
Henry's marriage with his sister. 

At last it was decided that the king and Jeanne 
should each nominate four commissioners to discuss 
the subject and arrive at some compromise. Noth- 
ing was gained by this new measure. Long debates 
could not remove the religious difficulties which 
still formed the main obstacle to a marriage for 
whose consummation all Europe was watching 
with breathless interest. 

Finally, Charles resolved to end the matter. It 
was like him to do it in some fit of disgust and des- 
peration. He suddenly declared that it was his 
royal will to impose no conditions whatever to the 
marriage of his sister and his cousin. It was use- 



320 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

less, he affirmed, to prolong the discussions. His 
subjects of the two religions could never come to 
an agreement. If the queen of Navarre would 
yield a single point, and summon the prince, the 
preparations for the marriage should instantly 
proceed. 

Nothing could seem more generous on the part 
of the monarch. This offer made a profound im- 
pression on the whole Huguenot party. From 
every quarter petitions poured in upon Jeanne to 
meet the king in a spirit as generous as his own, 
and second his efforts to appease his subjects, and 
give peace to his distracted realm. 

Jeanne was worn out with the long contest. 
She had striven nobly against fearful odds, believ- 
ing in her secret soul that mysterious dangers 
menaced herself, her son, her kingdom, her re- 
ligion. Her distrust of the court had not dimin- 
ished with her long sojourn in its midst. Her 
repugnance to the marriage augmented every day, 
but nobody shared this feeling. All the great 
Huguenot leaders, with Coligny at their head, en- 
treated her no longer to delay her consent. 

Her health was broken. That brave spirit 
could struggle no more against destiny, and a re- 
luctant "Yes "at last was wrung from Jeanne's 
lips. In the negotiation of the marriage articles 
all went smoothly enough. Charles gave his sister 
a generous dowry, and his mother and brothers 
added splendid gifts for Marguerite. 

The queen of Navarre settled a large dowry of 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 321 

lands and money on the prince, and insisted on 
presenting Marguerite with her bridal jewels and 
robes. 

Yet Jeanne's discernment, sharpened by ma- 
ternal anxiety, could not have failed to discover 
something of the real character under all the grace 
and blooming loveliness of her future daughter-in- 
law. 

Marguerite of Valois was the child of her moth- 
er. She had, as already stated, some generous 
traits, some noble impulses, but the corrupt at- 
mosphere in which her childhood and youth had 
been passed had developed the worst side of her 
nature ; and even Catharine de Medici lived to 
blush for the soiled name of the last and fairest 
of her children. 

As Jeanne gazed on that marvelous beauty, as 
she watched all those matchless charms of speech 
and manner, so soon to work their fascinations in 
the staid little court of Pau, she must have sighed 
in bitterness of soul. Gay, volatile, luxurious, 
false, Marguerite was not the wife for her brave, 
noble boy. 

When the refusal of the pope to grant a dispen- 
sation for the Bourbon-Valois marriage was re- 
ceived at court, Jeanne caught at it as the 
drowning catch at straws. Was it possible that 
this dreaded union might yet be prevented ? 

But Charles flew into one of his characteristic 
fits of rage, and declared if matters at Rome were 
pressed too far that he would take his sister by 



322 The Protestant Qneen of Navarre, 

the hand and lead her himself to be married in 
accordance with the Reformed Ritual. " He was 
not a Huguenot," he told Jeanne, "but neither 
was he a fool ! " 

Could he, that young king, one wonders, have 
been something else all this time — something fierce 
as hate, false as treachery, and more cruel than the 
grave ? 

The evident failure of the queen of Navarre's 
health had now excited the serious alarm of her 
friends. She herself hinted to the king her wish 
to retire for quiet and rest to Vendome while the 
negotiations between the pope and himself were 
pending, but Charles would not listen to her leav- 
ing the court. She had to submit, but on one 
pretext or another she delayed summoning the 
prince, while her anxieties bore still heavier upon 
her failing health. 

At this juncture the little princess, Catharine, 
fell ill with inflammation of the lungs. Her life 
was for several days in imminent peril, and her 
mother hung in breathless anxiety over the couch 
of that beloved child. 

During Catharine's convalescence the dispensa- 
tion arrived, authorizing the marriage of Henry 
of Navarre with Marguerite of Valois. Jeanne's 
last hope of escape must have disappeared now ; 
yet a mystery hangs around this dispensation 
which, to this day, has never been cleared up. 
Some historians believe that it was forged, either 
by the queen-mother or her son, after the pope 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 323 

had positively refused it. Others take the ground 
that the cardinal of Lorraine, that arch enemy of 
the Huguenots, then in Rome, obtained the dis- 
pensation after imparting the sanguinary pro- 
gramme whose details had been carefully arranged 
by Catharine, but whose execution could only be 
accomplished by the marriage of her daughter 
with the prince of Navarre. 

Nothing, however, is certain, only there is a 
strong probability of foul play somewhere. If not 
forged, why was the dispensation, so sternly re- 
fused at first, granted at last ? But it is in vain 
to ask these questions. The air darkens down 
around the closing days of Jeanne d'Albret's life 
so thick with plot and mystery, that one groping 
there is never certain of reaching the truth. 

The queen had now no further excuse for de- 
laying to summon her son to court. She author- 
ized the prince to advance at the head of a small 
retinue of fifty gentlemen; the remainder of that 
illustrious company to whom she had, on leaving 
her kingdom, committed her son, were still to re- 
main in Beam, ready to receive the prince and 
his bride on his return, or to avenge any treacher- 
ous surprise which the court might attempt. 

These orders were significant enough. They 
show the misgivings which still haunted the queen 
of Navarre, and which were so soon to have a ter- 
rible justification. 

There were fresh troubles about the wedding 
services. These could not fail to come up when 



3 24 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

a royal marriage between Catholic and Huguenot 
was under consideration. It was natural that 
Charles should desire to see his sister wedded 
with all the old pomp and splendor before the 
portal of Notre Dame, after the ancient fashion of 
the bridals of the daughters of France. 

Jeanne yielded in this point but in other mat- 
ters, where her conscience was undecided, she had 
again to consult her Huguenot ministers. Charles 
on his part made concessions, and the difficulties 
were all smoothed at last, and it was finally set- 
tled that the bridal should take place in the fol- 
lowing June. 

The queen of Navarre soon afterward took leave 
of Charles and his mother, and departed with her 
ladies and suite for Paris. She had an object in 
going to the capital. She was resolved to test the 
temper of the gay city toward the house of Bour- 
bon before she permitted her son to accept its hos- 
talities ; besides, there was the splendid wardrobe 
yet to be purchased for the bride of the heir of 
Beam ; and Jeanne d'Albret would do her work 
there, as she did all things, most royally, and like 
a queen. 

On her way to the capital she stopped a few 
days at Vendome, the scene of her happiest hours, 
the splendid home of her son's royal ancestors. 

After resting here she proceeded to Paris. But 
the woman herself, it was evident to all who saw 
her, was not what she had been. 

A singular melancholy seemed to brood over her 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 325 

mind, and every effort was followed by lassitude 
and exhaustion. 

Meanwhile splendid preparations were going on 
in Paris for the reception of the prince of Navarre. 
When she beheld these, the mother-pride and love 
brought back something of the old spirit of Jeanne 
d'Albret. She saw they would make the heir of 
the Bourbons welcome in the capital of France. 

Jeanne's gracious manners and demeanor con- 
ciliated all who met her. In company with her 
old, tried friend, the marshal Montmorency, she 
rode about the city selecting the bridal gifts, the 
gold, the jewels, the splendid fabrics which were 
to add new luster to the beautiful woman who was 
soon to be her son's bride. 

At last Jeanne sent for Coligny to join her in 
Paris. She desired his counsels at this crisis, and 
she had perfect faith in his honor and loyalty, 
however his eagerness and obstinacy might deceive 
him regarding the character and motives of others. 

On Wednesday evening, June 4th, 1572, the 
queen of Navarre returned home greatly exhausted 
by one of her toilsome progresses through Paris. 
She was suddenly taken ill. As the night advanced 
her sufferings increased, and the next day her 
breathing had become so painful as to seriously 
alarm her physicians. 

Great consternation prevailed among the Hu- 
guenots throughout the city when they learned of 
the queen's illness. Her abode was thronged with 
anxious visitors. Amid the general consternation 



326 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

she only retained presence of mind. Her agonies 
were terrible. They wrung tears from those around 
her, but they never extorted a plaint from those 
trembling, pallid lips. 

From the second day of her illness it was evident 
that the queen of Navarre regarded her recovery 
as hopeless. She had not a regret for this. The 
world had not been so fair or pleasant to her 
that she could have any keen sorrow at leaving 
it. Her royal birth, her crown, her throne, her 
wonderful gifts, her lofty character, had not saved 
her life from the bitterest trials, the cruelest 
wrongs. 

Her powerful enemies, Catharine de Medici and 
Philip II., could at last do her no more harm. 

She must have thought of all this as she lay on 
her dying bed, while outside the sun was shining, 
and making the busy streets bright and warm 
through the long, pleasant days of that old June. 

" I have never feared death," she said. " I do 
not dare to murmur at the will of God, though he 
sends me these terrible sufferings. But I grieve 
deeply to leave the children whom he has given 
me exposed so young to so many troubles and 
dangers; still I trust all with him." 

That tender mother-heart would beat true to its 
last throb. 

To the friends gathered in inconsolable grief 
around her bedside Jeanne d'Albret said, " Ought 
you to weep for me ? You have all witnessed the 
griefs and miseries of my life. Can you grieve 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 327 

when God takes pity upon me, and calls me to the 
blessedness and peace of the home for which I 
have constantly besought him ?" 

One thing was remarkable. From the first 
moment of her illness the queen of Navarre never 
alluded to her son's approaching marriage, and she 
manifested a strong desire to avoid the whole sub- 
ject whenever it was broached by others. 

Her mind, however, was unclouded to the last. 
One night she summoned her daughter's governess, 
and desired her, after her death, to return with the 
young princess to Beam, where she would be en- 
tirely safe from the corrupt influences of the 
French court; and she confided to the governess 
many tender messages and solemn warnings for 
her child. 

Early the following morning she held a last in- 
terview with Coligny, who had hastened to Paris in 
obedience to her summons. He was overwhelmed 
with grief at the sight of the dying queen. What 
took place in that last interview between the illus- 
trious pair was never made public ; yet if Jeanne 
endeavored at that solemn moment to impress on 
the admiral her distrust of those in power, her 
dying warnings signally failed to produce any 
lasting impression. 

Nobody familiar with the history of the massacre 
of St. Bartholomew can doubt that the rash confi- 
dence of Coligny in the promises and protestations 
of the court made possible that night at which the 
world still shudders. 



328 The Protestant Queen of Navarre, 

The admiral at last left the queen's presence, 
his brave heart torn with sorrow. He was about 
to lose his noblest, wisest friend. During the day 
the queen's torturing pains gradually subsided, but 
it was evident that her strength was rapidly failing. 

She made her will, appointing Coligny and the 
cardinal of Bourbon her executors. It seemed a 
strange conjunction. Her brother-in-law had long 
ago joined in the Spanish conspiracy against her 
life and liberties ; but she knew that he had been 
incited to this shameful act by the false represen- 
tations of powerful and malignant enemies, and 
she believed it safest to intrust in part the fortunes 
of her orphan children with their father's only 
living brother. 

After this she failed rapidly, lying, for the most 
part, with closed eyes, speechless, unless some ter- 
rible paroxysm convulsed her. 

Every thing which the medical skill of that age 
could devise for the relief of the queen of Navarre 
was done, but all remedies failed. Her breathing, 
which had given her such long agony, at last be- 
came easier, but those who chafed the cold, pulse- 
less hands and feet knew that the end was near. 

A gesture to her chaplains to continue their 
prayers, a faint smile when one of them commenced 
the psalm " In te Domine Speravi," showed that 
she was still conscious. She continued to sink 
gradually from that time. It was the night of 
June 9th, 1572. 

When the summer morning, joyous with singing 



the Mother of the Bourbons. 329 

birds, sparkling with dews and sunshine, beautiful 
with leaves and blossoms, rose once more over 
the gay city of Paris, the woman with the no- 
blest heart and the clearest brain in all Europe 
lay dead ! 

A black specter, lurking in the distance, drew 
closer at her death. Had she lived, its awful 
shadow would probably never have fallen upon 
France. Two months later the summer ended 
in the lurid gloom of the Massacre of St. Barthol- 
omew ! 
21 



THE END, 



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